For the Love of Leah
by Ravenia
Summary: Companion piece to my "Threshold" series and Xandurpein's "Rebel and the Queen", this story tells how Fergus and Leah came to fall in love and marry. Some mature subject in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

When I was writing "Threshold", my Teagan/Surana fic, Cadsuane said, in passing, she wanted to read a Fergus story where he was happy and married (to ANYone but Anora). Xandurpein had included an Easter Egg in the form of my Neria and Teagan in his fic, "Queen of Thorns". I wanted to return the favor these two very nice people had done for me by helping me with my own stories, so was born the characters of Leah (A nod to Cadsuane's own Lya character) and Rogue Michael (Xandurpein's character, slightly retooled). As their roles in "Crossing Over" and "Homecoming" were very small I wanted to write another story, telling the tale of how Fergus and Leah came to fall in love.

As always, my eternal gratitude goes to Cadsuane for her wonderful editing skills and the creative energy she brought to the story, and to Xandurpein for his assistance with the male PoV and dialogues for Michael and Anora. Both have proven invaluable in getting this story out of my head and seeing print! Also a thank you to Bioware for their wonderful world of Thedas, all rights to characters in this tale belong to them.

If you like this story, check out Xandurpein's "Rebel and the Queen" a refreshing, new take on the Anora/Cousland dynamic, set in the same world!

* * *

For the Love of Leah

Chapter One

The first thing he was aware of when he dragged himself to consciousness was a throbbing deep in the base of his skull, shooting up from his spine, intensifying when he stood. He was unaware of the passage of time as he had lain unconscious, half buried in swamp water. It could have been minutes, hours, even days. The hazy, gray, overcast sky above didn't reveal a sun he could place an hour of the day to, or even if it was the same day.

He remembered scouting with some of the men from Highever. They had found a group of stragglers in the Korcari Wilds, or rather they _had been found_ by the darkspawn. There had been a short, heated skirmish in which he remembered being struck on the head then falling into a rapidly flowing river finally coming to rest on the bank here. Of the fate of his men, he had no inkling.

Suddenly his stomach protested and dropping to his hands and knees he proceeded to retch up water and what little he had in his stomach. Helplessly, he could only respond to his body's need to expel for a few minutes before he lay back looking up at the sky.

"Maker's breath, I think it's going to…" he murmured.

Then the first droplets splashed on his face. Large, ponderous drops as cold rain began to pour down on him, forcing him to crawl over to a stunted tree, its branches low to the ground and offering some shelter from the elements. Shivering, he pulled his cloak around his body and closed his eyes, slipping back into concussion-induced unconsciousness.

* * *

_Light brown hair framed her face and fanned out on her pillow. That morning he had wakened beside her, she had been wrapped around him. She always enjoyed cuddling after their lovemaking, or even just as they slept, and he would often wake in her arms or holding her in his. She wasn't awake yet and he spent some minutes looking at her face. She had fine features, sweet soft lips with which she would tease his body, and beautiful blue eyes._

_And she was so warm. _

_He kissed her, their day starting off as usual. Oren would be up and running around soon and would precipitate waking because he and Michael, Fergus's younger brother, would have dreamed up some way to torture Oren's nanny. _

_But Oriana smelled so good, Fergus couldn't resist waking her up for a little early morning closeness. He nuzzled her neck and kissed the soft spot behind her ear. She protested half-heartedly, but he felt her arms come around him to hold him closer to her. Her fingers glided over his skin across his hips and, down his abdomen to wrap around him, sending jolts of pleasure along his spine. Her petal soft lips brushed over his skin as she started coming fully awake. _

_He cupped his hand over one full breast, his calloused thumb flicking over her nipple before bending to take it in his mouth, his tongue brushing along it, lightly scraping with his teeth. An answering gasp of pleasure from his wife encouraged him and he bent to the other nipple, eagerly pulling that into his mouth._

_Whispering love talk in her native tongue in her ear brought a giggle of appreciation from her. His accent was terrible, he knew, but that he made the effort to try at all she had always appreciated. Or at least that's what she had told him. Sometimes he wondered if she laughed because he was saying it all wrong. For all he knew he could be waxing poetic on the merits of oatmeal._

_Then Oren burst in, barely containing his excitement. Hastily, with a small groan of frustration, Fergus had to relinquish his wife to their son._

"_Father, there's a messenger from the king in the castle!" he had exclaimed._

"_Is there now? And how do you know it's from King Cailan?" Fergus had asked, smiling indulgently at his pride and joy._

_A light rap at the door frame made him look up to see his younger brother, Michael, filling the space. His brother stood there with an air of insouciance, but Fergus knew it was a façade Michael had long ago adopted to hide his deepest feelings. From the tension in his shoulders and the way his arms crossed over his chest, Fergus knew, something was happening that would affect them all even as far north as Highever._

"_Get up, Father, get up," said Oren, pulling at Fergus's hands. _

_Oriana watched indulgently as her son pulled at him and bounced around him excitedly on the bed. Fergus looked at his wife pleadingly, but she shook her head. There would be time later for love. For now, he had to go see what news the king's messenger brought to Highever._

"_Oren, fetch Daddy's trousers there off the chair," Fergus said. _

_His son bounced down, plucked them up and brought them to his father. Fergus slipped into them, looked back imploringly at Oriana one more time before she grinned and shoved at him. _

"_Go," she said. "Take our son downstairs so I can get dressed. We can 'talk' later."_

"_I'll hold you to that, my love," he said._

_The man from King Cailan was talking to Father in the main hall. Bryce was frowning, looking over the message. Eleanor stood nearby. Lady Landra was standing next to her, and her son, Dairren, stood with his hand on his mother's arm._

"_Tell the king we'll set out by day's end," Bryce informed the messenger who bowed and exited the castle._

"_Father, what's happening?" Fergus asked._

"_Darkspawn, son. They've risen in the south and are on the move again. King Cailan says it's a Blight. I want you to lead our troops south to Ostagar. I want to finalize preparations here and then will follow you tomorrow morning. Arl Howe is here and will go with me. His troops will be arriving tomorrow to escort us."_

"_Of course," Fergus nodded._

"_What of me, Father?" Michael asked._

"_Michael, I'll have to leave you in charge here, I trust you to do what you must if worst comes to worst."_

"_What? That…_no_! Father, I want to fight!"_

"_No!" Eleanor pleaded. "It's bad enough I must send my husband and firstborn son off to fight this menace. I couldn't bear it if you left, too."_

"_I'm sorry, pup, I have every confidence that you'd make a fine showing down there, but I need you here. Someone has to keep the peace in the region."_

"_Sorry, little brother, looks like you will have to wait for the next Blight," teased Fergus._

_Michael narrowed his eyes and got that look in them, the one that always bespoke trouble brewing behind those stormy blue orbs, but said nothing further in protest. _

_Fergus left them then, mustering his troops, preparing them for the long march in the cold to the south._

* * *

He was aware of hands on him, pulling at him. Opening his eyes, he saw a darkspawn, yanking at his armor, trying to divest him of it. He put up a feeble hand to protest, his wounds having sapped the last of his strength, but the creature pulled out a wicked blade preparing to skewer him with it.

An arrow pierced its throat, dropping it to the mud.

Fergus looked up to see a cloaked figure approach leading a horse, a longbow in her hand. It was a woman, but all he could make out was her gender and dark hair framing her face under the cloak.

"Maker's breath! Fergus! Is that you?" the woman gasped.

He knew that voice but he was too weak to even speak her name. He groaned and felt the world graying around him again, slipping back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Leah bent over him, a rush of memories flooding her. Fondly recalled childhood memories spent teasing him and his little brother, climbing trees, scraping knees. Those mingled with more recent not so fond memories of blood and death and war.

She had wanted to help in the war, following her father's, Bann Sighard's, army south, but she'd been discovered two days ago and sent back north. Managing to ditch her escort, she'd been working her way back to Ostagar when she had seen the horde amassed near the ancient fortress. Helplessly, she had seen the slaughter that happened when Loghain's troops abandoned the king, his army and the Grey Wardens.

Shuddering, she shook her head trying to dispel the images that came to mind. No one should have to see something like that and she didn't know why she had watched it. Some part of her felt it needed to be witnessed, that those who died there deserved to be remembered. If there were survivors, she didn't know. The horde had continued to 'play' with its victims long after the battle. Surely those who had survived the initial wave were dead now. Finding Fergus here was a stroke of good luck, possible only by being this far from the main body of the horde. This, however, left her with a different dilemma. Where could she go to find help to tend his injuries and find shelter for them both?

With a soft sigh, she looked down at the man at her feet. Tugging at Fergus, she managed to rouse him enough to get him over her horse's saddle and then climbed up beside him. They had to get out of this Maker cursed rain and his wounds needed tending. She cast a glance back the way she had come, Ostagar was lost, and there was a horde between her and help. To the north lay Lothering, perhaps she could find help there.

Nudging her mount with her knees she directed the horse north up the Imperial Highway toward the small town that offered some hope for her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It had taken several days of skirting the horde and picking her way through the swamp to finally see Lothering at last. She breathed a soft sigh of relief that soon they would have a warm bed at the inn and she could get some healing poultices to wrap around that nasty wound on his head. She had formed a makeshift travois to drag behind her mount out of her blanket and some branches. She had added her own cloak to his to try keeping him as warm as she could, and at night had lain close to him, trying to keep them both warm.

She frowned at what seemed to be bodies lying beside the road ahead. As she got closer, she saw it was indeed the bodies of several men. Had she arrived too late? Had the horde somehow made it past her and gotten to Lothering before her?

Slipping off her mount, she stepped into the gathering shadows of twilight to move closer to the town. There were tents on the outskirts of town, filled with what looked like refugees who had fled north to the dubious protection to be found here. A group of men with torches approached her, accompanied by one of the templars from the chantry, apparently to see to the fresh bodies on the roadside.

She approached the templar, a worried frown on her face. He turned and inclined a head toward her as she drew near, leading her mount.

"You have wounded, I see," he said. "I'm sorry, my lady, if you came to Lothering seeking help. Once his wounds have been attended to, if you can travel, I suggest you do so. Lothering is lost."

"Lost…? But there are people here."

"Not for long. Those that can travel will be evacuated. Those who can't…" his voice trailed off, leaving little doubt in her mind what would happen.

Her eyes looked again out at the people lying near tents, too wounded or too old to be moved.

"The bann…" she began.

"He took his soldiers north when the teyrn's army marched through. Lothering has been abandoned."

"The chantry…you mean to tell me that a handful of templars is all you have to defend the village? Against that _horde?_"

She was trying hard to keep the panic out of her voice. Fergus was badly wounded and she hadn't been able to rouse him all day when she had stopped to reposition and tend to him. She had used what herbal poultices she had on her to tend him, but ran out the day before. He needed healing magic, but where would she find that here?

Looking around in consternation, she saw no answer to her problem. Then her eyes returned to the corpses on the roadside. Something odd about them grabbed her attention and a closer look at the bodies made a spark of hope flare up in her breast.

"What happened to these men?" she asked. "This one looks like his face was melted off."

"Men? These were animals, my lady, brigands robbing refugees, or killing those who couldn't pay their 'toll.' As their last act in this world they chose the wrong victims to try to rob.

"There were a couple of Grey Wardens who came through here. I think one was a mage, but Ser Bryant let her pass. She seemed to do more good than harm and he felt it wasn't worth the effort to pursue the apostate."

"Is she still here?"

"No, they passed through and left this afternoon. My lady, if you can travel on, I would really recommend it. The darkspawn will be here soon."

"Do you think I can stay at the inn, or the chantry? Another day out in the open…." She turned worried eyes to Fergus's body on the travois.

The templar's eyes followed hers to her companion and his voice was not without some compassion.

"The inn is full. And the chantry, too. Though there may be some space left on the floor if you want to get him out of the night air. Priority is being given to the injured. And you might check with Elder Miriam or that damn merchant overpricing his wares to see if they have any poultices for this one.

"To be honest, my lady, with your mount, you may not be entirely safe in Lothering. It makes you too tempting a target—not many come through here with more than the shirts on their back or a wagon pulled by oxen. A horse may prove too tempting to resist."

"Thank you, ser…?"

"Maron, my lady."

"Thank you, Ser Maron."

She led the horse into town, finding the stares of the displaced toward her and her mount unsettling. The templar had the right of it, she feared. Despite Fergus's condition, she felt staying in Lothering beyond getting some much needed supplies was foolhardy.

There was a merchant wagon near the chantry with food and supplies and she purchased them, frowning. His prices were an obvious gouging. Maker cursed opportunists, but she had to have them.

She was able to get a few poultices to tend Fergus and she took the opportunity to change his bandage which up to now had been a torn strip from her spare chemise. Then getting on the horse she rode from Lothering without a backward glance.

This left her in a bit of a quandary as she had no idea where to go for help nearby. The closest was Redcliffe to the west but if she went north, there was the Circle of Magi and healing magic. Either destination, however, was at least a week away.

She paused near the lake to get some willow bark for later and then moved back toward the road. With a sigh, she pointed her mount northward and began the long ride to the circle's healers.

Toward evening, she stopped in the valleys of the Bannorn. The scenery was gorgeous here, the endless waves of tall grass dotted with the occasional farms that supplied food for most of the country, the setting sun casting a golden haze over the landscape. She gathered some firewood and pulled flint and tinder from her belt pouch.

Soon she had a fire started to heat some water and make a broth out of strips of preserved meat. If she could coax him into at least a partial waking state, she was going to try to get food into Fergus. He'd taken little nourishment the past few days, and she continued to worry for him. In another bowl, she prepared some willow bark tea for his pain.

She half dragged, half carried him to a bedroll. Hopefully, tonight she could rouse him some. It worried her that he was sleeping so much. She checked his poultice, found it still acceptable to remain on him and then put his head in her lap.

"Come on, Fergus, wake up. Please?" she begged. "You have to eat something."

* * *

_As if from a great distance, he heard Oriana calling his name. His head was pillowed in her lap and they were out watching the stars tonight. Though a part of him wondered why it was so cold. It was too early in the year to be so cold._

_He felt her hands touch his cheeks and then she was holding a spoon to his lips trying to coax him into eating. The bitter draught made him protest, but he was too weak to fight her on it. A part of him recalled them joking about Antivan women and poisons the night of his departure from Highever. Then she was feeding him some broth, which he took much easier._

_After a bit, she stopped and just held him, her fingers stroking his cheek, soothing him. _

_Not long after that, he felt himself begin to fall back into sleep._

* * *

Seeing him resting a bit more comfortably, Leah sighed in relief. It was a beautiful, clear night—she could see every star in the heavens. Were it not for the circumstances and the fact that Fergus was a married man very much in love with his wife, she could almost feel it was romantic being here.

Her fingers idly stroked his cheeks, taking note of the stubble growing out into a beard, making plans for the next few days. If—no, _when_—she got help for his injuries, she would have to get them back to Highever. Bryce and Eleanor would know what to do. They always knew what the best course of action was.

Repositioning his head on her pillow, she lay down next to him on the bedroll, pulled their cloaks over them and wrapped her arm around him, trying to keep them both warm. Looking up at the deep blanket of darkness in the sky, peppered with the twinkling lights, she felt very much alone in the valley.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The tower spire loomed over the horizon long before she got near it. Fergus had been more responsive the past few days, the poultices she had purchased doing him a world of good, but she still wanted him to get healing magic.

Near the tower was an inn, but she only gave that a cursory glance before heading down to the docks. A templar stood at the end of the dock, watching her with an air of boredom. Obviously, this was a duty he wasn't too fond of. Dismounting, she approached him.

"Stop right there," he warned. "No one gets into the tower. I'm in enough trouble over those Grey Wardens who arrived earlier."

Pausing, she turned, looked at Fergus, looked at the templar and walked up to him. She had come all this way only to be _turned back_? No chantry boy was going to stop her now!

His eyes widened as she approached and he reached for his blade. She put a hand on his to stay it, and grabbed the top of his armor with the other.

"You aren't going to give me a ration of mabari droppings. I have a very injured man here. He needs help—the kind of help I can find _only _in that tower, and you're going to take me over there. _Right now_!"

She gave him a shake to emphasize her words. He swallowed uncomfortably and looked from her to the man to her again.

"Y-Yes, ma'am," he said. Then he muttered with a frown, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

In short order he had her ferried across the lake and helped her pull Fergus out of the boat. In all, she got the feeling he was quite happy to just be rid of her. With Fergus leaning heavily on her, she managed to get him up the short distance to the huge doors.

"Almost there now, Fergus," she said.

She lifted the heavy knocker and banged the door with it. It took so long she was starting to fear they wouldn't answer before the doors finally opened. Two templars in bloodied armor stared blankly at her.

One of them spoke to her. "Go away, my lady, you'll find no help here."

"No," she insisted, pushing her way in. "This man is gravely wounded and I'm not leaving until I get help for him."

Inside, an older templar frowned at her and held up his hands.

"Enough, we don't need more people in the tower. What part of 'don't let anyone across' did Carroll misunderstand? First the Grey Wardens, now civilians? My lady, you must leave for your own safety. The tower is no longer in our control."

"This man is gravely wounded. I am not leaving until I get him some help," she repeated.

She wondered what it would take to convince them that she wasn't going anywhere now that she had finally gotten Fergus here. Something was going on, though. There were wounded templars here, untended. Frowning, she set Fergus down near a pillar, leaning him against it.

"I am Lady Leah, daughter of Bann Sighard. This man is the son of Teyrn Cousland. I'm not going anywhere until he's been seen to. Where are the mages? What's going on here?"

"My lady, I wouldn't care if you told me you were Queen Anora. This is not a good time to come to the tower. I cannot allow civilians to remain on the premises. You must leave immediately."

Her voice was even, almost maddeningly calm. "I said I'm not going anywhere until my friend is healed."

The templar frowned then shook his head. "I've sent the Grey Wardens in to deal with the problem. If they manage to rescue any of the mages, your friend will have the healing he needs. If not, you'll have to leave. There will be no help for you, and it would be even more dangerous for you to remain."

Frowning, she returned to Fergus and pulled out her daggers, sitting next to him. She wasn't sure what trouble was going on here, but she would be ready to defend Fergus against anything that she had to.

"I'll get you home, Fergus," she promised. "I'll get you home to your family."

Hours went by, filled with the cries of the wounded being tended by their fellows who were less injured. To have something to do, Leah helped to tend them as well, cleaning wounds, sometimes holding the hands of the most seriously injured, talking to them quietly. The Knight-Commander would shoot the occasional worried glare at her, but she thought that had more to do with concern for her and Fergus being exposed to whatever had caused this disarray in the tower than irritation at her insolence.

Toward dusk, Fergus roused and she went to sit beside him and hold his hand. He didn't seem to know where he was or what was happening, but at least he was conscious.

A commotion at the inner door immediately galvanized everyone in the room, the templars able to mount a defense gathering, blades drawn. Finally a voice was heard on the other side. Warily, the Knight-Commander ordered the bar to be removed and from the interior of the tower emerged several figures.

"Irving, thank the Maker, I'd almost given up hope!" said the older templar.

"It's over, Greagoir, thanks to my apprentice and Wynne," said an elderly mage emerging from the tower and leaning heavily on a young elven woman with dark red hair.

Leah stood while they discussed the business of what was to be done with the mages in the tower. Apparently some attempted coup had been thwarted by a Grey Warden mage and her companions. The First Enchanter, the old man Greagoir had addressed as Irving, smiled in relief and thanked the young Warden and an elderly female mage and promised the aid of the mages in the coming battle against the Blight.

"Oh, Maker, is it really a Blight?" Leah gasped.

Her words were quiet, barely spoken, but they reverberated in the silence around them like the clapping of a bell.

"Child, what are you doing here?" Irving asked.

"Her friend has been injured," Greagoir answered for her. "She's…very determined…to get him some healing magic."

"I'll look at him," said the older woman.

She had a gentle voice and a kind face, and with renewed hope, Leah knelt alongside the elderly woman as she worked her magic. The woman smiled at her.

"A head wound, and a concussion, some cracked ribs and a bit of internal bleeding. You've done a good job, young lady," she said. "You did all you could. Let me help him the rest of the way."

She placed her hands on either side of his shoulders, palms facing inward and began to softly chant the words to a healing spell. A blue radiance spread out of her fingers and wrapped around Fergus and while Leah couldn't see any wounds being healed, he did seem to be resting more comfortably when she was done. She would have to remove the poultice later and see.

"He seems familiar to me. Was he at Ostagar?" she asked.

"Yes, though I found him in the Korcari Wilds. Were you at Ostagar?"

"I was, but I returned here shortly after the battle."

"So some did survive," Leah frowned, remembering the slaughter she had witnessed. "I was afraid no one had at all and I couldn't get past the horde to get to the fortress."

"You brought him here, all by yourself? Across the countryside?" asked the elven woman.

"Well, I had my horse to help me. I had to do something, he was hurt."

"And he will live," pronounced the elderly woman. "Try to keep him still for a few days but he'll be all right now."

Leah hugged Fergus, she was so happy. "Thank you! Oh, thank you! He has a wife and child and parents who must be so worried! I have to get him home."

"We can escort you if you need…" began the elven Warden, but Leah shook her head.

"No, you've already done far more for me than I could have hoped. You have a Blight to deal with. When I get home to Dragon's Peak, I'll let my father know and we'll aid you anyway we can. And I'm sure Fergus's family in Highever will help, too."

The redheaded human woman with them turned at that.

"Highever?" she asked. "You know people in Highever?"

"Yes, I know the teyrn and his family. Why do you ask?"

"I pray this is just a rumor I heard, but when I was in Lothering, word came from the north—Highever was taken a couple of weeks ago. The Cousland's were all, Maker forgive me for having to tell you, but they were all killed."

The news hit her like a sledgehammer. "You—you must be mistaken! Who would do this?"

"I hope for your sake I am," she said, ice blue eyes filled with compassion. "I was told evidence was found to link them to a plot with Orlesian nobles. Arl Rendon Howe's men took the castle after attacking it in the name of the Crown."

She knew of the arl, a weasel-like, petty, little man no one she knew had any affection for. Bryce and Eleanor traitors? The idea was preposterous, but there would be those who disliked the Couslands who would believe that lie.

"Thank you for the warning, we'll be careful."

They helped her get Fergus back into the boat and into the inn.

"I wouldn't recommend traveling with him just yet," said the mage who had healed him. "Give him a couple of days to heal and he will be more up to traveling."

As much as she wanted to head north to Highever and find out what was going on, she was glad they had a short delay. She wasn't looking forward to having to tell Fergus his family may be dead.

"Thank you. Please, what was your name? I never caught it."

"I'm Wynne, child. We'll be nearby for tonight if he needs us. Then we must be on our way."

After they were gone, Leah laid down next to Fergus and put her arm around him.

"It's a rumor, it has to be. We'll go see, and I promise you, Fergus, if it's not a rumor, we will make Howe pay for what he's done."

_Oh, Maker, how was she going to tell him this_?


	4. Chapter 4

Foreshadowing...

* * *

Chapter Four

The following morning, Wynne and the Grey Wardens checked on him one last time before they left. They were trying to use the ancient treaties to call on aid and gather an army and Leah breathed a sigh of relief thinking perhaps all was not yet lost for Ferelden.

"Where do you intend to go now?" Neria, the Grey Warden mage, asked her.

"We'll go back to Highever. I need to find out what's going on there. If—" Her voice cracked. She didn't want to think of Bryce and Eleanor gone. "If his family is gone, I can get him to Dragon's Peak. Howe will doubtless try to kill him if he learns Fergus is alive."

"I wish you luck, Lady Leah," said Wynne. "I suspect your days ahead will be as interesting as ours."

With that, they were gone again. Leah regarded Fergus sitting in a chair near the fireplace. His recovery after the healing had been remarkable. Wynne was truly a miracle worker, one Leah thanked the Maker for every time she saw him sitting up or heard him talking.

Frowning, she realized she was going to have to be the one to break the news to him. But she couldn't do it, not yet anyway. She still had to learn if it was the truth or just a rumor, but rumors had a nasty way of holding, if not whole truths, at least partial ones.

She sat on the rug before the fire next to the chair.

"We'll leave tomorrow," he was taking charge, making plans. "I have to get back to Highever, tell Father what happened. The king is dead—Loghain is trying to seize his throne. Father will stop him."

"Are you sure you can travel?" she asked, trying to put it off.

"I have to be. This news is urgent and I miss Oriana and Oren."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. Part of her wanted to tell him, part of her dreaded it. _Coward_! She cursed, inwardly. _You don't want to tell him, you know you don't. Oh, Maker, how do I tell him his family might be gone_? _Why do I have to be the one to shatter his world_?

Frowning, she nodded. "Of course, we'll go in the morning."

"We? Leah, you don't have to come with me, I know you're worried about your family."

"Leliana said that a civil war is starting up, Arl Eamon is ill and can't help us, and Teyrn Loghain betrayed the king and is now trying to steal his daughter's throne. Of course, I'm worried about Dragon's Peak. But I got you this far, I won't abandon you now."

"All right, I'll make sure you have an escort to Dragon's Peak once we get back to Highever."

Nodding, she couldn't look him in the eyes, staring at the fire in the fireplace instead.

* * *

Fergus was surprised to find when he recovered that it was Leah who had brought him all the way from the Korcari Wilds. She had gone there to try to help the king's army and found him instead. Then she had been witness to Loghain's betrayal, the slaughter of the king, his army and the Grey Wardens.

Fortunately for him, not all of them had died in that battle. Two of them had survived and were trying to muster up an army to battle the Blight. They had gone to the Circle of Magi and resolved things there just in time to heal him. He had promised the forces of Highever were at their disposal when the time came to fight. Perhaps it was overstepping his bounds but he knew his father would have done the same.

He was also finding it hard to believe Leah had grown up into such a strong, determined young woman. Always a strong-willed young girl, she had visited often when he was younger, but she was more an age to his brother, Michael, than himself, being eight years his junior. She'd always just been 'that pest' with knobby knees, torn trousers, buck teeth and freckles. Somehow that ugly duckling had blossomed into a beautiful swan. Whatever man she finally gave her heart to would be very lucky indeed.

"I want to thank you, Leah. I'd have died in the wilds if it weren't for you."

"Don't thank me yet, Fergus, we still have a long way to go and a lot can happen." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He wondered why she sounded so sad. Perhaps she was just worried about her family. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to be reassuring.

"It'll be all right, Leah. We'll face whatever we have to as we always have. The Cousland's know and always do their duty."

Frowning, she lowered her head. "I'm tired. I brought in my bedroll, I'll take that, and you take the bed."

"Leah, I can't let you do that."

"You're the one who's still recovering. I wish you'd stay here another day or two, but I know how arguing with you is going to turn out. We'll go to Highever and," she added evasively, "see what we can do."

Knowing she wasn't going to budge on this, he acquiesced. Tomorrow he would get supplies, a mount and head home. He was grateful his father probably hadn't gotten to Ostagar before the battle or he, too, would be dead. And his little brother, Michael wouldn't stand still for this either, though he wondered how much of that would be outrage at Loghain's actions or just Michael wanting to raise a little chaos. Either way, Loghain would be held accountable for what he'd done.

His worried frown smoothed as thoughts of Oriana and Oren crossed his mind's eye. They would be waiting for him. Mother would probably insist on coddling him when he got back, too, especially if Leah told her—and he _knew_ she would be telling Mother–about his injuries.

He rose and stretched.

"I'm going to bed," he said. "Good night, Leah. Try to get some rest."

* * *

Nodding, she rose, pulled her bedroll over to the rug by the fire and lay with her back to him, watching the licking flames consume bits of wood. Tears welled up and spilled onto her cheeks as she wondered where she was going to get the strength to tell him about Howe and Highever should it come to that.

For the longest time she had loved him, a childhood crush growing into something more as she matured. But she'd always been too shy to tell him, and he was married to Oriana and had his son before she was really old enough for him anyway. Fergus adored his wife and little boy and she hadn't wanted to interfere in that. Even now, knowing that if they were gone, and she would finally have a chance with him, she prayed they were safe at home, that what Leliana had told her was just a rumor. Guilt added its weight to her heart as well for even thinking such things, rumor or not.

_Oh, Maker, please, please let it not be true_, she begged silently. Almost immediately she heard him begin to snore quietly. _At least I can give him a couple more days of peaceful sleep before he has to learn._

For all his protestations of feeling well enough to travel, she suspected it was more eagerness to be home again. If only she could feel the same eagerness. The fire had burned down to coals before she was finally able to close her eyes and get some sleep.

* * *

The overcast morning did not bode well for their journey, but Fergus was eager to be gone and nothing Leah could say would stay him. Reluctantly, she followed him.

By some act of mercy from the Maker, she'd managed to keep him from finding out while they were at the inn, but she knew only a few days separated them from the town of Highever. And while it wasn't the castle, the town would definitely know what had happened, and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep it hidden much past that point, if at all.

It was mid afternoon when the rain began falling on them. Both had worn cloaks waterproofed with wax to keep out the rain, but it seemed to blow from all directions, quickly soaking them, sending stinging pellets of rain into their eyes. The horses plodded without complaint through it, bending shaggy heads and trying to shield their eyes as much as they could.

"Fergus, I know you want to get home but, Maker's mercy, can't we please get out of this rain for a bit?"

"A wet camp won't be much better," he said. "I believe there's a farm on Highever's borders not far from here. We can stay there."

She nodded and bent her head, letting her horse follow his.

Twilight was settling over the land when they finally reached the farm he had talked about. There were corpses in the yard, an elderly man, a mature woman and man and three children. Fergus pulled up the reins and drew his blade. No sign of their attackers was evident.

Cautiously, Leah pulled her daggers and slipped off her mount. Brushing rain back from her eyes she tried to peer into the gloom to see what might have attacked them but nothing was evident. From the look of them, they had been dead for days.

"Who did this?" Fergus asked. "Darkspawn?"

Leah shrugged and startled at a sound from the small house. Fergus was before her in a flash, putting himself between the door and Leah. With his toe he nudged it open and they both screamed as a chicken flew out of the small farmhouse.

Incongruously, they began to laugh, nerves on edge.

"It seems safe for now. Let's get the bodies in the barn—hopefully it'll be dry enough to burn them tomorrow."

They tugged and pulled, using the travois that she had devised to get Fergus to the Circle, eventually getting the corpses put in the barn. Leah again thought of what waited for them at Highever Castle.

Then they approached the farmhouse. Fergus went first, and after a few moments his head emerged from the door and he motioned her in. She looked around herself and was grateful to be out of the rain at last.

The farmhouse was ransacked. Whatever had done this, it wasn't darkspawn. There was no taint here that they could tell. Mindless destruction, yes, maybe even feasting on the bodies, yes—these were all things darkspawn would have done, but this looked more like a raid. Everything that was edible or useful had been taken, even the clothing and bedding had been taken.

"Robbers," said Fergus. "Maker's mercy, they even killed the children. What kind of fiends slaughter little children?

Leah nodded, biting her lip. She didn't want to imagine who had done this.

"We'll give them a pyre in the morning, Fergus. For now there's nothing more we can do," she said.

He nodded, setting to rights the family's dining table and chairs.

"I'll see if there's anything in the larder," he said, pulling the trapdoor open and going down the short flight of steps. After a bit he came back up. "Nothing, they took what was down there, too."

"Well, we have supplies enough to get to Highever. Let's just eat our travel food tonight."

Once they made sure the horses were dry and warm in the barn and had some fresh hay to eat, they went into the farmhouse and started a fire. This far north, it was actually warmer, but the fire would help their clothing dry out.

Leah was a bit shy about removing her garments in front of Fergus. When he pulled off his shirt her mouth went dry and she could only stare at the broad expanse of chest. A few dark hairs curled on his pectorals, making a dark line leading down to his trousers that her eyes couldn't help following. Swallowing nervously, she felt her pulse begin to pound in her head and a strange pulling sensation between her legs. Then she noticed him staring at her. Embarrassed, she blinked and looked away.

"I'm sorry, I've never—that is, I don't know what's wrong with me. That was rude. Maker's breath, I'm sorry," she stammered, awkwardly.

"It's all right, Leah," he said, smiling slightly. "I think I'll just leave the trousers on. I'll just turn myself around here and let you get undressed. Get out of those wet things."

Hastily, afraid she would lose her nerve, she divested herself of her garments when he turned and wrapped her cloak around herself. When he turned back around he smiled at her and picking up his cloak wrapped it around her, too. She looked into his amber eyes and saw his amused smile in them as well.

"Tonight, you get the bed," he insisted. "I'll need to stay by the fire so I can dry out."

Bemused, she nodded, wondering if he knew magic of his own. She felt as if her mind and body weren't hers, that there was someone else living in them tonight.

"Leah, I know you haven't been sleeping well. I wish you would talk to me about it, but if you won't, I just want you to know I'm here for you. Now, try to get some sleep."

With a shuddering sigh, she nodded and looked at the bed. Lying down on the straw mattress, she watched him as he moved near the fire, laying out their clothes and setting down his bedroll in front of the flames.

Tomorrow they would deal with the bodies here, and in a day or two they would be in Highever. Then, she could put it off no longer—she would have to tell him what she knew.


	5. Chapter 5

In which Fergus returns home.

This was a hard chapter to write. The Couslands are such wonderful characters and I get so immersed in their story, I always cry when my PC has to leave behind his/her parents, knowing what Howe will do to them. When I played the game, I overheard Howe's men in Denerim joking about the castle full of corpses and how 'if looks could kill' from the servants and villagers. I reflected on those lines and present now what I expected would have happened had Fergus made an earlier appearance at Highever, a few weeks after Ostagar. Loss is never easy and it quite often is filled with too many emotions to express all at once.

As always thanks to Cadsuane for her beta reading skills and Xandurpein for his male PoV and to both for the creative energy they brought to my story. Thanks to Bioware for its entertaining world, both light and dark. Also thanks to those reading this story and a special thanks to Shakespira who keeps me on task with her excellent reviews!

* * *

Chapter Five

Three days later they were nearing one of the small villages in Highever, a few miles from the castle itself. Fergus eagerly kicked the sides of his mount and urged it forward at a gallop. He couldn't wait to get home, to hold Oriana, and put his son on his shoulders and carry him around the keep. It had been worth every coin he had spent on the extra horse so he could race home that much faster.

He was aware of Leah racing beside him and he looked toward her with a huge grin only to see a look of horror on her face that brought him up short, looking over his shoulder. Seeing nothing he looked back at her perplexed.

"What's wrong, Leah?"

"Fergus, I have to tell you something," she said, quietly. "Oh, Maker, I don't want to say this. I don't want to be the one to tell you. We have to hide you from anyone who might recognize you."

"What? What are you talking about?" he asked.

"We can't risk them finding out about you, until we know for certain…."

"Know what? What's going on, Leah?"

"There are rumors that came out of Highever," she said, her voice filled with dread and he felt it wrap around him, making his throat dry. "The night you left for Ostagar Howe's men attacked the castle."

He grabbed her wrist, glaring at her. His jaw worked, the words barked harshly.

"Tell me. What's wrong?"

"I don't know much more than that. Just that the castle was attacked. I've been praying that your family—that they were spared."

"So that's why they were 'delayed.' That bastard—if my family is…." his voice trailed off and he pulled his cloak over his head. "I'm just a traveler. We're on our way to the Free Marches."

She nodded, being remarkably acquiescent to the adoption of the role, for which he was grateful.

A couple of hours later they rode into the small town where, in the past Fergus and his brother had gone drinking, away from the ever watchful eyes of their parents and Fergus's wife. The town seemed much changed, the atmosphere was charged with malice, there were few people going about their business and men bearing Amaranthine's standard were on the streets, running roughshod over those who did have to leave their homes to attend to business.

The tavern was one of the few buildings full in the town. The soldiers here were boisterous and he had to dodge a few bodies here and there, but they managed to find a table in the rear where they could watch. Fergus clenched his fist around the tankard of ale the barmaid brought him and glared at these men celebrating their 'victory' at the castle by lording it over the few patrons and workers in the tavern. Were it not for Leah and the danger he would be putting her in, he would have thrashed them all.

The group near him was boasting about the ease with which the castle had been taken, the slaughter of the people within. He was about to stand when one of the captains put a halt to that talk.

"Enough! Isn't it bad enough I had to participate in that, but now I have to listen to you fools brag about it? There's no glory to be had in killing men, women and children."

For the next few minutes, Fergus wasn't really aware of what had happened. There was a red haze that came over his vision, blood, screaming, blades flashing. He was aware only that Leah was guarding his back, fighting with him. There were bodies all over the tavern, and the tavern keeper was pushing them out the door. Then he was back on his mount, riding hard for home.

* * *

It wasn't good, he could tell that much from a distance.

The castle itself appeared deserted, gutted. Aside from the crows, there appeared to be no signs of movement or life in the castle. The walls were mostly intact but had endured quite a bit of fire damage and there was rubble everywhere.

From the look of things at his vantage, it seemed some interior walls remained intact and the flooring appeared unaffected. As they got closer, he could see the door to the main hall was shattered, and showed signs that it had been beaten for some time before the enemy had finally gained entry.

As they had neared the castle, the stench from corpses left to rot where they had fallen was overpowering. Now, Fergus searched each body, praying alternately to find his family and to _not _find them among the dead. That Howe had taken some prisoners was evident for there were some not found among the dead, most notably Ser Gilmore who'd been left to help his brother command the contingent left to guard the castle. Gilmore wouldn't have abandoned them—he had to be a prisoner. Mother Mallol was missing as well. He found Nan's corpse in the kitchen along with a couple of the elven servants.

There were far too many faces he recognized among the dead. Men he had drank with and trained with and had laughed and shared better times with. Good men who had died defending his family.

Leah was silent as she followed him, her face etched with dread and no doubt mirroring his own.

When he found his parents in the larder, his legs failed him, falling to his knees over his father's corpse. His mother had been stabbed multiple times and she had obviously been trying to protect his father. Neither of them had died easily.

He felt Leah's arms go around him, her cheek on his shoulder, as he buried his face in his hands, denying what his eyes told him, tears slipping between his fingers.

"My brother, where is he? Has he been taken by Howe, too?" he whispered.

Leah shook her head. Of course she couldn't tell him, she had no more answers than he did.

He closed their eyes and then rose.

"Oriana and Oren. I have to know."

He turned and strode swiftly up the incline past his mother's atrium to the family's bedrooms. Pausing at the door he had gone in and out so often, he seemed to hear an echo of her voice, his son's laughter. Leah lingered just outside the rooms as he entered, obviously reluctant to intrude on this.

* * *

Squeezing her eyes shut, Leah tried to block her ears from the sound of his wail. She could honestly say she had never heard anything like that before and prayed she never would again. She buried her face in her hands and leaned against the doorframe, unwilling to enter that room. He would never forgive her if she went in there now.

In the end, she couldn't just leave him in there. She went in and found him holding them and sobbing like a little child over their bodies. The bend of his body, the sorrow she read there, spoke volumes, more than words ever could.

She touched his arm and his head snapped up, glaring at her. "Leave me! Get out!" The words were a snarl of rage.

Shivering, she almost did as he commanded, then she slowly shook her head. "No, Fergus, I'm not leaving you alone, not like this."

He broke then, clinging to his family. "My son, Maker's breath, they killed my son!"

"We'll make him pay, Fergus. This is horrible, but we'll make him pay."

"I just want them back. Please, tell me this is just a bad dream. I just want them back."

Practicality won out over emotion, she had to make him see sense in this. The corpses he was clinging to were a few weeks old and needed proper disposal. "We need to give them a pyre, Fergus."

"No!" he said, clutching them possessively. "No, you can't! Don't touch them! Get out! Get out of here!"

Frowning, worried for his sanity she moved away, but not far, staying in the doorway watching him. She hadn't known Oren or Oriana well, but tears slipped from her eyes as she watched his pain. He had always seemed so strong to her, capable and almost indestructible, but the man she watched now was naked in his vulnerability in a way she hadn't known before. His world had ended with them.

For hours the only sound was his sobbing and pleading for them to come back. Then toward dusk, he grew silent. She had laid her head on her upraised knees, but now she looked up to see him regarding her over his shoulder.

His voice sounded so lost. "They took her ring. My grandmother gave me that for her. She…was trying to protect Oren with her own body. You're right, I can't leave them like this," he said. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. Let's get this over with."

Leah nodded quietly and hugged him from behind as he sniffled and bowed his head in acceptance.

* * *

She was afraid Howe's men would come, but over the next two days, no one came to the castle to bother them as they carried out the duty of tending the dead. Once all the corpses were gathered, Fergus lit a torch. Neither of them wanted to keep the clothing they had used during this dreadful, but necessary, task and that joined the pyre as well once they had cleaned up and put on clean clothes. Together they watched as he set fire to the bodies of family and friends, and with tears and prayers they sent those spirits on their way.

"He must be waiting until after the civil war and the Blight are settled to…come back here," she mused, watching the fire consume the corpses. "Though why they left the bodies…."

His voice was harsh. "Because they're animals. I want them all dead. And where was Michael? He wasn't among the bodies. And there was no way he would have gone down easily or run from this fight. Gilmore and Mallol are missing, too."

"We'll find him, if he's alive. We'll find them all."

She handed him a scarf she had found in the bottom of the wardrobe in his bedroom.

"This…was hers. Where did you get this?" he asked.

"I found it in your room. It must have been…overlooked when they ransacked the castle. I thought you might like something of hers to take with you."

Placing it to his cheek, he closed his eyes, blinking back tears.

"It even smells like her. Thank you," he said. "Thank you for finding this."

Nodding, she sighed, watching the pyre again, her eyes drawn to the Couslands, who had been set a bit to the side. They were good people who hadn't deserved this kind of end.

Fergus turned and walked to his mount. "We can't stay here. Sooner or later, they'll be back. We'll need an army to retake Highever, and I intend to make every one of these bastards accountable for what they did here today."

"We can go to Dragon's Peak," she said. "I know Father will help you, Fergus."

"I don't know. Right now I just know I want to go climb into a tankard and forget what I did here today," he said, wearily.


	6. Chapter 6

Some erotic scenes ensue this chapter, a bit more explicit than my usual (T rated) fare. If you critique, please be kind, this is the first time I've posted anything like this. If this isn't your cup of tea...well, you have been warned.

Usual disclaimers and thank you's apply.

* * *

Chapter Six

They sat on their mounts outside the tavern looking at the door speculatively.

"You know he's never going to let you go back in there," she said. "You slaughtered those men and wrecked his tavern."

"Those weren't men those were animals, and Michael's done worse in his day. I bet I can convince him to let us stay at least for the night. Then we'll head to Dragon's Peak." She started to speak, but he shushed her. "Your family will be worried about you, no arguments here."

The innkeeper emerged from the tavern and looked at them, frowning. Then he strode over.

"My lord, please, I'm a simple man. Violence here just attracts the wrong kind of attention, but I won't berate you for doing something every man in this town wanted to do to those animals. I can sympathize with what happened, but you're in danger here if anyone learns who you are. Your father was a good man and you boys are always welcome here. If you promise to behave yourself I can supply you a meal and a room for the night. Then, I think it best you depart in the morning."

"I give you my word, good man. I don't want to cause trouble for you or your business. I just need a place to stay for the night for me and my companion."

* * *

A few hours later, Fergus had kept his word, but proceeded to drink glass after glass of wine until Leah worried she would never be able to get him upstairs to the room they had paid for. He had spent the better part of the night crying quietly and Leah had no words of comfort to offer, only her silent presence.

Toward midnight, the barmaid stopped serving them and Leah helped him to his feet. With him leaning heavily on her, she staggered up the stairs with her soggy, grieving companion.

In the room, she set him on the bed and tugged at his boots. Once those were pulled off, she unlaced his shirt and pulled that off, too, her breath catching at the sight of his bare chest again. Her fingers couldn't help lingering over him, that strange, compelling, pulling sensation striking her again. It happened whenever she saw him like this.

For a long moment she didn't move, watching in fascination his even breathing as his chest expanded with each intake of breath.

Her gaze strayed to his amber eyes and her mouth went dry at what she found in them.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

One arm went around her waist and the other behind her head to pull her down into his kiss. His kiss caught her by surprise as she felt his tongue penetrate her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth. She could taste the wine he had been drinking and shivered as she felt that pulling sensation spread along her body. It seemed to extend down from her mouth where he was doing remarkable things to her there, and raced up from her groin to merge the two somewhere in the middle.

He pulled her down beneath him, his kisses trailing from her lips to her ear, nuzzling there, his hot breath fanning over her neck. He pulled her shirt loose from where it was tucked in her trousers and his hand slipped inside to caress her breasts, the calloused thumb brushing her nipples and making them harden.

She gasped, a confusing mélange of emotions assaulting her mind and senses. Part of her was enjoying what he was doing, part of her was horrified she was letting him do it. He was grieving the wife he loved and he was going to hate her in the morning when he realized what had happened. Yet, there were also the feelings he was evoking in her with the sight and smell of him, and the touch of his hands on her.

Then she closed her eyes and accepted what was happening. If this comforted him, then so be it—she would comfort him. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer to her.

Head spinning, Leah gave herself over to the fire coursing through her veins. She'd never felt anything like this before and it amazed her that it was Fergus doing it to her. Despite how wrong it was, she also felt the rightness of it, too. As much as she knew they shouldn't be doing this, she was thrilled he was doing it with her.

He lifted her shirt up and over her shoulders, pulled down her breast band, bearing her breasts to his eager mouth and fingers, making her gasp little panting breaths as her need raced through her, her heart pounding in her ears. The fingers of one hand tried to work the lacings of her trousers without much success and she had to undo them. Lifting her hips to help him ease them off her, she lay there with nothing on.

His hand moved across her stomach to rest on her sex. Involuntarily she closed herself to him, finding his touch there too fast, too intimate and making her wary.

"Oh, love, you're being shy," he murmured in her ear, his warm breath fanning her temple. "You're so adorable. Relax, you know I won't hurt you."

Biting her lower lip, she did relax somewhat, enough for his fingers to explore her soft folds, reigniting the desire her momentary trepidation had killed in her. She was so tense, she cried out when his finger entered her, a wave of moisture allowing him to penetrate her easily. He entered her with his finger, tickling inside, his palm rubbing against the little button at the core of her pleasure, her hips moving up to meet him.

"So ready, so fast—let me oblige you then, love," he said. He fumbled with the ties on his trousers, but they had become knotted. "Oh, Maker, I'll never get these off."

"Wait, maybe I can loosen them," she offered.

Fergus rolled over to oblige her and she set to work. Her fingernails didn't work and she ended up using her teeth to get them unknotted. He looked down at her with a surprised half grin on his face as she managed to get them undone.

"Saucy little minx aren't you?" he said.

Tugging them off him, she knelt staring at that part of him that she knew would enter her. She had seen naked men before, injured men she had been called on to nurse, and had even sneaked down to the pond to watch the men bathe sometimes. Ostensibly, she did it to practice her rogue skills, but in truth, she was satisfying her curiosity.

This was the first time she saw a man naked that she knew would be touching her intimately and it was a different experience altogether.

"Can—can I touch it?" she asked.

He laughed. "I'd very much like that."

Leaning back on his elbows to let her touch him, he watched as she explored the texture and feel of him. He was warm, and erect, and she knew he was fully capable of entering her as he was now, but he held back, perhaps curious what she would do?

He took her hand and pulled her up to lay beside him in the bed. He nuzzled her throat, his own voice deepened and husky he murmured against her skin, his breath brushing her and adding its warm touch.

"Enough playing, love, I want you," he said gently, but firmly.

He parted her thighs with his hand, nestling his hips inside her legs. Trembling, she felt his manhood on the edge of her and nearly panicked again. It was too close, too fast, and there was a startling vulnerability about this position she had never known before.

Balancing himself on his elbows and knees, he penetrated her, gliding in easily, her wet passage allowing him easy access.

"Maker's breath, love, you're so tight!" he gasped.

After a few shallow strokes, she began to want more of him than he was giving her and she tilted her hips. His next stroke went deeply into her, past her maidenhead, making her freeze up in unexpected pain. Lost in his pleasure, Fergus continued moving inside her, which was fortunate for her as the pain was momentary and she began to feel a need to complete this act with him.

Sweat and breath mingled as their bodies joined, their need pushing them along past all reason.

The tension grew, to the point she felt she was going to be torn asunder. She closed her eyes, the pleasure becoming unbearable, a white light bursting behind them as the wave hit her.

She had never felt like this before, so close she had forgotten where she ended and he began. It was as if he had become one with her. Wrapping her arms around him she kissed him, felt his lips kiss her back, and then he trailed his mouth down to the soft bend of her throat, continuing to move inside her, his own climax coming on him. She felt his seed pour into her and it completed their dance for her, knowing she had given him as much pleasure as he had her.

"I love you, Fergus," she gasped, overcome with emotion.

"I love you," he said, his weight pressing her into the mattress beneath them as he collapsed bonelessly on her. "I love you, my Oriana."

Horrified, she lay beneath him, barely moving. Oh Maker, oh Maker, oh Maker! He hadn't even been aware it was her with him, not his wife! Well, that would certainly explain why he would have even touched her in the first place. Oh holy Maker, this was awful! She couldn't bear lying in the bed with him. She pushed at him and he rolled over, his arms going around her to pull her close to him.

"I'm sorry, love. I'm too tired to stay up. I need to close my eyes just a bit," he said.

He kissed her forehead tenderly and stroked her back with his fingers.

After a bit, it became evident that he was asleep and totally oblivious to her. She slipped out of his embrace and moved off the bed, gathering her clothing and pulling it on. Getting a blanket off the trunk at the foot of the bed she moved to the chair near the fireplace and sat in that.

What was she going to do? This was beyond humiliating!

Sobbing, she wondered how much of this he would remember come the morning? And would she be able to bear looking him in the face knowing what she knew?

* * *

Rolling over in the bed, Fergus reached for his wife. When his hand encountered only empty space, he felt the pain of loss anew and remembered what he had found in Highever. His memories after attending to the atrocity in the castle, were a blur. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten up to this room. Frowning, he looked at the chair in front of the fire and saw Leah sleeping curled up on it.

He had to get her home to Dragon's Peak. After that, he would turn his mind to vengeance. With his entire family dead or missing, he was the last of the Couslands. It was his duty to retake Highever.

Granted there wasn't much there now, but this was a rich teyrnir and he would be _damned_ if Howe was going to profit from this for long.

Holding his head, he swung his feet over the edge and set them on the floor. If the room would stop spinning long enough, he would get dressed. Had she done that? _Poor kid_, he thought, regarding Leah sleeping in the chair. She must have gotten him to bed and undressed him, too. That must have really embarrassed her. He would have to be especially nice to her today or he would never hear the end of it.

He pulled on his trousers and went over to her. Frowning, he thought she didn't look very comfortable in her seat. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he shook her gently.

"Leah, wake up. We have to go."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him as if he was a genlock about to pounce on her. Blushing deeply, she cast her eyes downward and he recalled how she had been embarrassed the other day at his bare torso.

He pulled on his shirt.

"Rise and shine, pumpkin," he said, recalling her nickname from years ago. "We need to head for Dragon's Peak. Time to get you home."

Downstairs, the innkeeper was just beginning his day. Fergus bought another glass of wine, downed it and felt the headache subside somewhat. Then he bought several bottles for the road and exited the inn.

If he was going to make it through the next few days it was going to take something a little stiffer than fortitude to help him.

* * *

Leah had followed Fergus down the stairs, watching in confused silence. He seemed to have no memory of last night. Had he really been that drunk? She looked at the innkeeper who just looked back at her and went back to wiping his counter. Swallowing and dragging her feet, she went outside to find him in the stables, saddling her mount.

"Long travel ahead of us, kiddo," he said. "I'll need to talk to your father about help with Howe. I think if we can deal with Loghain or Anora, we can get to Howe and I'll make that bastard pay for what he did."

Placing his hands on her waist he helped lift her into the saddle, though she hardly needed assistance. _He's being awfully sweet and attentive today_, she thought.

Oh Maker, he does remember, but he wasn't going to humiliate her by saying anything to her. She felt a stab of pain in her chest. He was being 'big brother' to her, felt pity because she loved him, but he didn't love her.

Sitting gingerly, her bottom still sore from last night's exertions, she didn't know how she was going to ride all day, but she refused to complain. She'd done what she did knowing full well he was grieving, and she blamed herself for what had happened. Raining recriminations on his head wouldn't make her feel better.

They turned their mounts eastward toward her home, but Leah was dreading every step of the way.

Father was not going to be pleased with her.


	7. Chapter 7

4

Chapter Seven

Fergus spent the first few days after leaving the castle in a wine-besotted fog before he began to sober up and take stock of what needed doing. He decided the first order of business was traveling the teyrnir and determining how many of Amaranthine's troops occupied his home, and what he would have to do to reclaim it.

Fergus rode through the teyrnir observing everything. The human condition in the towns of Highever was pretty bad. Where Howe's troops weren't harassing citizens, the lawlessness that came from no leadership in the teyrnir was fostering chaos. He found one village had been completely ransacked, and everyone dead, though if it were bandits or Howe's men he couldn't say. Pretty much it seemed they were one and the same these days. There wasn't much he could do at the moment and already a paper was circulating with his picture drawn on it looking for the "attacker" of the Teyrn's men. As it was a pretty wretched likeness, he hoped no one would put two and two together and realize it was the firstborn Cousland they were looking for. As much as he hated it, he had to lay low for the time being as he had Leah to consider, and for now her safety had priority. It would take an army to retake Highever, something he was sorely lacking at the moment.

It galled him that Howe was being referred to as the Teyrn of Highever, but short of assassinating the man himself, a nigh impossible feat to get to him in Denerim's palace, he saw no means of dealing with that situation at the moment. It would take an army to bring Howe to justice. In Fergus's mind, that was as important as retaking Highever.

For some reason Leah was remarkably quiet on their journey, not offering much by way of conversation. He supposed it was just her being homesick, she'd feel better once they got near Dragon's Peak.

After a month of reconnaissance and feeling confident of the numbers of men he would need, Fergus headed southeast with Leah toward Dragon's Peak.

When they camped beside the Hafter River two weeks later, he drew a small sigh of relief. They would soon be in the shadow of the mountains and he caught Leah staring at their snow capped peaks that afternoon. He stood on the bank, fishing and watching her.

He couldn't put his finger on what was different about her. After that horrible task of burning all the corpses in Highever, she'd been very quiet. He didn't think she'd said more than a handful of words to him since, outside what was strictly necessary. He'd hoped she would be more her old self once they got closer to Dragon's Peak, but if anything she had closed down further. Maybe it was more than homesickness, he thought.

In his own grief he'd forgotten that others loved his parents as well. Leah had been especially close to Eleanor.

She seemed so small, and lost, his heart went out to her. Maybe it was the shock of everything, the battle she had witnessed, the trials of the past weeks, finding the castle in the state it was in, all combined to make this melancholy mood.

After the trout he had caught were cooked and eaten, she went to her bedroll and curled up with her back to him. Frowning, he took the dishes down to the river and washed them before returning them to his saddlebag. Wishing he could do something to ease her mind and dispel this malaise she had fallen into, he lay in his own bedroll watching her back as she slept.

* * *

The following morning he woke and saw her bedroll empty. Looking around, he saw her tracks leading down to the riverbank. Oh, Maker, what if she had given in to whatever bad spirit had gripped her? That whole thing with the mages at the tower, what if something had gotten into her and caused this? Would she really do something to harm herself?

He followed the tracks along the riverbank, coming to a bend with a copse of trees blocking his view. Ahead he heard splashing noises and found her clothing set out on a large flat rock near the riverbank to dry. Realizing what he was observing, Fergus blushed and turned away, his back leaning against the rock she had put her clothing on.

At first he was caught off guard, too stunned to leave. Then he was afraid she would see him and that would have been an embarrassing conversation. Finally, curiosity won out over his sense of propriety and he sneaked a look at her. She had her back to him, her shoulder length dark brown hair plastered to her skull from the water. Her movements were quiet, graceful, almost as if she was dancing. He caught a flash of her breast half-bared to him under her arm, not too large, not too small, the slim curve of her back and waist leading down to firmly rounded buttocks.

He felt a familiar pulling in his groin at the sight of her naked splendor. She most definitely wasn't a little girl anymore, having grown into a beautiful woman. Images from his mind's eye, her face suffused with pleasure before him, her dark hair fanning out on his pillow, her supple skin under his fingers, blended seamlessly with this picture before his eyes. It seemed his imagination could do a lot with a couple quick glances.

Then, in its place he saw Oriana, as she had been when licking flames consumed her body and sent her spirit to the Maker.

He shivered and pulled back around again. Grief, guilt and lust warred for control of him and shame won out. He didn't look back as he scrambled back up the hill toward their camp.

Leah was safe, that's all he needed to know.

After a bit, she returned to camp and sat on her bedroll. They had decided to camp here a few days and rest a bit before heading for the mountains, letting the horses rest. Fergus decided she looked as if her mood had improved after having had the chance to clean up. Sniffing under his arm, he determined he could use a bath as well. He gathered up a spare set of clothes, a bar of soap and headed for the spot she had been in.

"I'll be back in a bit," he said, calling over his shoulder. "Just yell if you need me."

* * *

Leah watched him walk down the incline, a lump rising in her throat at the sight of him. She had hoped with the humiliation of the night they had sex and finally having been with Fergus, she would get over her ridiculous crush, but spending the past weeks with him had only intensified it.

He'd been polite and sweet to her, as nice as any big brother could be, protective, friendly, in his own way loving. She buried her face in her hands, her cheeks coloring and burning. It wasn't his fault she wanted more from him.

Even as humiliating as it had been, she wanted him to touch her again like he had that night. There were some nights she couldn't get to sleep, and she would roll around in her bedroll, restless, only to roll over and see him on the other side of the fire, sleeping, if not peacefully, at least well enough he could find a few hours of oblivion in dreams. Even just knowing he was there, not far from her, was enough to quell her worries and let her return to slumber.

Sometimes she heard him laughing in his sleep, and knew he had to be dreaming of happier days. Other times he cried. The worst was when he did both and she knew whatever happy dream he was having had evolved into a nightmare. She wanted to go to him and hold him when that happened, but she was afraid to, afraid of what might happen.

After a bit, he returned, refreshed and carrying another large fish for supper. Another example of how well he took care of her. He always seemed to be able to find game or fish for them to eat, so they rarely had to eat the dried meat and traveling biscuits that they used on lean days when game wasn't available. She insisted on cooking it—he was a lousy cook—and between the two of them they managed quite well on their travels.

She was still reluctant to see her father. He was not going to be pleased she had traveled down to Ostagar and then stayed away so long without sending word—though she felt bringing Fergus out of that situation would earn her enough goodwill from her father to allay the worst of his fury.

After two days spent camping by the river, and smoking some fish for traveling, they set off again toward the mountains upon which nestled Dragon's Peak.

The closer she got to home, the more her melancholic mood was dispelled. She found herself eager to be home again, having missed her family, even her brother, Oswyn. She found this landmark or that as they ascended the terrain and recalled each with fondness. There was the tree she had climbed and the bush that provided blueberries that one season the family had camped there. There was where she had hidden in her own little cave she had found when she was ten and the small mountain pond she had caught her first fish in. All these she pointed out to Fergus as they rode.

She knew he was still grieving, but once in a while she would catch him looking at her and smiling. She knew even if he didn't feel the same for her, he was glad for her company.

Then, they approached Dragon's Perch, her family's small keep. Nowhere near as big as Cousland Castle had been, it was still a sturdy little keep, with solid, granite walls. It had stood since before her grandfather's time. A small moat encircled it and the topmost turrets had been shaped in the form of a dragon's wings brushing each other almost touching, forming a sort of arch. Dragons stared down from the uppermost walls, stone sentinels to stand as mute guards, overlooking those who lived in the keep.

"Welcome home, Leah," said Fergus.

"Home," she whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

5

Chapter Eight

The surprise on Sighard's face upon seeing the firstborn Cousland, and delight at seeing his child returned to him, alive and unharmed, warmed Fergus and reassured him that his initial instinct to bring her home was right.

While not pleased his daughter had gone to Ostagar without his permission, it was evident to Fergus that Sighard was impressed she had found him in the Wilds and gotten him assistance and all the way to Dragon's Peak. It couldn't be easy admitting she was no longer his baby girl.

Fergus liked Sighard. He had been an old and dear friend to Bryce and the news Fergus and Leah brought that confirmed the rumors that had reached Dragon's Peak disturbed him.

Enilda, Sighard's wife, took Fergus's arm and brought him into their sitting room. "You've been through a lot and we're glad you brought Leah home. We've been worried sick about her. Come sit down and tell us what happened."

It was hard in the telling, and hard recalling the scene they had come upon. More than once, Fergus faltered in the speaking of it until finally he left it to Leah to tell of what had happened in Highever.

He saw Leah start to reach out to him, and then pull her hand back. What was wrong? Why was she so uncomfortable around him? He had done everything he could to be nice to her. Maybe her parents could reach her, find out why she had been so awkward with him where he had been unable to.

For his part, Fergus told them what he could remember of his time in Ostagar and the Wilds, and then when his recollections failed, Leah picked up the slack. The only part of her account she stumbled over was the night Fergus had gotten drunk following the funeral of his friends and family and what had happened then. He felt that was when something—whatever had made Leah so quiet on their journey—had happened but for the life of him he couldn't imagine or recall what it was.

Enilda frowned curiously at her daughter, but said nothing.

"We have to help Fergus regain Highever," said Leah. "This is wrong, Father."

"It's not that easy, pumpkin," said her father. "Loghain is a powerful man and Howe has attached himself to him. I wondered why your parents weren't at the Landsmeet Loghain called following Ostagar. Now I know. I saw Howe there. He's taken over as Arl of Denerim as well, now that Urien's son, Vaughan, was killed in the elven riots. Loghain declared himself regent, in all likelihood in a bid to take the throne from his daughter. Now with the civil war starting up, and Bryce, Eleanor and Urien all dead along with the king…. Howe's managed to situate himself perfectly to advance."

"So…you're saying we can't help Fergus, Father?" Leah asked, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Fergus. If it were just Howe, I'd chance it. I know Eamon wouldn't stand for this either, but he's ill at the moment, or so I heard from his brother at the Landsmeet. But it's Howe _and_ Loghain. I can't openly oppose the Teyrn of Gwaren and regent."

"Father! I can't believe you won't do _something_ to help him! Fergus lost everything to that man!"

"Leah, that's enough," said Fergus. "I can't ask Sighard to fight a losing battle against the most powerful men in Ferelden. I can't put his entire bannorn at risk that way. I'll find some other way to get Highever back."

"I'm sorry, Fergus, I feel I've failed you," Sighard bowed his head. "At least let me offer you the hospitality of my keep until you know what you want to do. We'll keep things hushed about your identity."

"I would appreciate that, Sighard, I need to plan what to do next," Fergus said.

"When we traveled through the Bannorn we heard some of the nobles are gearing up to fight Loghain in a civil war, perhaps you can find help out there. If he can be brought to heel for his actions…" Leah said, mind racing.

"There might be a light at the end of this dark tunnel after all," said Fergus, nodding.

"A civil war, and with the darkspawn looming over Ferelden! Has Loghain taken leave of his senses?" asked Enilda.

"Maker help us if that's happened," said Sighard. "I am hoping he'll come to his senses before this gets beyond all reasoning. Without the Grey Wardens, Loghain's our only hope of facing the Blight. If he's gone mad…."

"All the Grey Wardens aren't dead, Father," said Leah. "I met two in the Circle of Magi. They're trying to get an army to battle the Blight."

"Well, I'll be," he grinned. "They really are as tough to kill as they say."

"So was Fergus," said Leah, ducking her head shyly.

"Well," Enilda said, breaking the sudden awkward silence following that declaration. "You are doubtless tired. Have you had anything to eat today?"

"I'd just like a room to get some rest," Fergus replied, aware at last of how tired he was with the saying of it.

Enilda made him comfortable in their best guest room and Fergus went to sit on the bed. He wished he had learned something of what happened to his brother. There had been a closeness between him and his younger brother that had been very special. With Michael he would have had someone to share this burden with. Now, he was the last of the Couslands, and he had to hide who he was just to stay alive. The worst part of it was he didn't know what had happened to his brother. At least he'd been able to find closure with the rest of the family. This uncertainty was unbearable.

He lay down, but it was some time before his troubled mind allowed him to rest.

* * *

Leah went to her room and paced back and forth, not really tired enough to sleep, but wanting to avoid her parents at the moment. Her mother had been giving her looks all evening and had to know something was bothering her. There was a light rap at her door and she sighed, buried her face in her hands before finally giving in and opening it.

Enilda stood there, a questioning look on her face. Leah stood back and let her mother enter.

"So, darling girl, how long have you been in love with Fergus?" she asked.

Her eyes flew open. Of all the questions she had expected her mother to ask, that wasn't one of them. Hiding her expression, she tried to brush it off.

"Love? Where did you get that? I don't love Fergus. He's like a big brother to me."

"I've seen you, dear, with your brother Oswyn. You don't treat Fergus like you do your brother. You haven't looked at Fergus in that way in a very long time now. I've lived with you all your life and know you best. Please, just talk to me."

She lowered her head and tears slipped out of her eyes. "Oh, Mother, is it that obvious? I know it's hopeless. He just lost his family, his wife, his son."

"It's more than that though, isn't it?"

How could she admit what she had done? She was so ashamed. But if she didn't tell someone it would just stay inside her, poisoning her. And she trusted her mother.

Leah hugged her, her mother patting her back reassuringly. Leading Leah to the bed, Enilda sat next to her, holding her and rocking her a bit.

"I did something awful, Mother. I'm so ashamed, and now Fergus is being so nice, it's really just making it worse."

"What did you do, Leah? Please tell me, dear."

She kept her face buried in her mother's shoulder, speaking between sobs. "The night we burned the corpses at Highever he got so drunk. Mother, he was so hurt, it broke my heart to watch him. I've never seen a man cry like that before. I felt so badly for him, and I just wanted to help."

"Of course you did, my darling girl," Enilda reassured her.

"I just made a mess of everything!"

"How, darling? He seems fine. Sad, but not unbearably so," Enilda pointed out.

"Fergus and I…made love," she blurted out.

She expected her mother to stiffen and get angry with her, but she didn't. Instead of recriminations, Enilda held her tighter, offering soothing words. She didn't deserve comforting. What she did was awful. Why didn't her mother see that?

"Mother, did you hear me?" she asked.

"I heard you, Leah. You love him—you did what your heart demanded of you. I won't judge you for trying to comfort him."

"That's not all."

"You aren't pregnant, are you?" Enilda asked, looking slightly uncomfortable with the idea.

"No, I'm not," Leah assured her mother. "I…blurted out how I felt. And Fergus said he loved me, too, only he thought I was Oriana. And now he knows that I have this stupid crush on him, and he's been so nice to me because he pities me. I can't bear it, Mother. I thought I would die when he didn't even know we'd been together, but this—his pity is so much worse!"

"Are you sure he knows?" Enilda asked.

"Why else would he have been so nice to me? I mean, he's been _really _nice, a lot more so than he did when we were younger."

"I don't know. If you were acting differently he may have noticed and decided to try to help you by being that way toward you. Fergus has always been a nice young man."

Leah sighed and rose from the bed. "Oh, Mother, you just don't understand."

"Perhaps not. At any rate I think it best we don't mention this to your father. He certainly wouldn't…understand," Enilda said.

No, Father would kill Fergus. And it wasn't his fault she had made such a mess of things. She was the sober one that night who should've been strong enough to say no.

"Try to get some rest, dear," her mother said, pulling Leah to her bed and laying next to her to hold her as she had when she was a little girl needing comfort. "You're tired and this has been a very traumatic experience for you. Seeing the battle at Ostagar, finding Fergus, helping at Highever—that's a lot to take in for someone so young."

Leah closed her eyes, grateful for her mother's love and soon was fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

4

Chapter Nine

The next two months Fergus stayed in Dragon's Peak, making plans. Expecting the fight of his life when he did return to Highever, he wanted to be prepared for any contingency. The civil war would be his first strike against Howe and Loghain. Perhaps he might even find aid among those banns who were resisting Loghain's regency.

Leah had returned to something of her old self. She was certainly more comfortable around her family, and he was glad for her, even if she still seemed awkward with him.

After her mother began giving him piercing, curious looks, he began to suspect that she knew whatever it was that had been bothering Leah. Whether she knew or not, speculative looks aside, if he had been expecting revelations from her, he was mistaken as she didn't speak of it.

Awakening one morning to the household in an uproar, he learned Oswyn had run off to join the civil war against Loghain.

"It's because of Damon," said Enilda, fraught with worry. "They were close as brothers and Damon was at Ostagar."

"Was Damon killed?" Fergus asked.

Leah shook her head. "No, he was in Loghain's army and got the command to retreat, before the darkspawn overwhelmed the king. Now, Damon is missing and Oswyn has gone looking for him I think."

"I'll look for Oswyn. I can't guarantee I'll find him, but I'll look for him. I've been meaning to go for some time," said Fergus. "This just felt so much like home to me."

"You're always welcome here, Fergus," said Sighard.

"Father, I want to look for Oswyn, too," said Leah.

"No! Absolutely not!" protested Sighard. "We already have one missing child, I won't risk another."

"I'll be with Fergus," she pointed out. "It's not like you won't know where I am. I'll write, every—well not every day, but I'll write often."

Fergus glanced at her. This was a strange about-face. He was beginning to wonder if she would ever want to be around him again and now she was assuming he would bring her along. And when Leah turned her big, green eyes at him, almost begging to be allowed to come, he couldn't refuse her.

"Sighard," he said. "I swear to you I will defend her with my life. No harm will come to your daughter. You know Leah, when she sets her mind to something no one can refuse her. If anyone can convince Oswyn to come home, it's her."

It took a great deal of cajoling and pleading on Leah's part, and the better part of an afternoon, but finally she wore down her parents. They agreed to let her accompany Fergus, on the proviso that when—_they refused to accept if_—she found her brother, the two of them would return to Dragon's Peak immediately.

Before they left, Fergus did speak one last time with her mother, trying to get her to tell him what had been bothering Leah.

"It is up to Leah to tell you," was all she said.

* * *

The following morning, with Fergus waiting and holding the reins of her mount, Leah said her goodbyes to her parents.

"Come home soon, pumpkin," her father said, holding her fiercely to him.

She hugged her mother who whispered in her daughter's ear. "Be strong. And make wise choices."

Leah turned and climbed into the saddle, taking the reins from Fergus and then waving at her parents, they turned their mounts westward out of the mountains and toward the Bannorn.

Having watched his behavior more closely, Leah felt she'd done her mother a disservice by telling her she lacked understanding of the situation. She suspected her mother had been right. When his attitude toward her still hadn't changed after all this time, and he hadn't once brought it up, she had to wonder if he remembered any of that night at all.

"Where do you suppose we should begin looking?" Fergus asked.

"Well, Damon disappeared, but we don't know to where. Oswyn would most likely be wherever Damon is. Perhaps Damon's mother would know more? She retired to Denerim a few years ago. Sorry, I can't offer more."

"All right, Ferelden is a big place, so she's a start anyway. But I can't go to Denerim, Howe will doubtless have spies there looking to grab his enemies."

"We can go there first. You can camp in the woods nearby. It shouldn't take more than a day or two for me to look around."

* * *

Denerim was quiet. The Chantry was still conducting funerals for the bereaved families of those lost in Ostagar. There were a few more guards out in the market, but no one bothered her. The Alienage had been completely closed off. Damon's mother hadn't seen her son since before he left for Ostagar. She did say Oswyn had been there asking about him, but after that she didn't know where he could have gone. In the Gnawed Noble Tavern, one of the waitresses thought she may have seen Oswyn, but didn't know where he was now.

The trail ran cold. No one else could say where he had gone.

Around the campfire that night, her mood was morose.

"I feel like a failure," she said. "Mother and Father were counting on me."

Fergus sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder.

"You didn't fail them," he reassured her. "You did what you could. Perhaps he merely went out into the Bannorn to fight in the war. At least you found out he was in Denerim and was all right the last anyone saw him."

Nodding, she laid her head on his shoulder, relaxing, his words making her feel better.

"We'll go look for him among the bannorn's troops. Perhaps he offered his services to them?" she asked, hopefully.

Fergus stiffened and stood up. His voice sounded strangled. "Yes, I'm sure we'll find him there. Well, um, long ride ahead of us tomorrow. We'd better get some sleep. Good night, Leah."

Sighing, she nodded and buried her face in her knees. Maker's breath, he couldn't stand being near her. Her mother was wrong, so wrong.

She moved over to her tent and climbed into her bedroll, tears squeezing out of her eyes.

* * *

For a long time Fergus stared up at the tent covering his bedroll, listening to the crickets chirr in the woods around them. Maker's breath! It took a while for his breathing and heartbeat to slow down.

Closing his eyes, he could still feel her under his arm, warm and vulnerable. It was just a feeling of protectiveness, he told himself, big brotherly protectiveness. Unbidden, the image of her in the river returned to him, lovely pale skin, a sharp contrast to the dark hair on her head, water gleaming off toned muscles. She had looked like some kind of river spirit, completely unselfconscious in her element.

He certainly couldn't say that memory conjured feelings of "big brotherly protectiveness."

Shaking his head to clear it of that image, he sighed, grasped the little scarf that was all he had left of Oriana, and clutched it in his hand. In his mind's eye he tried to conjure an image of his wife, but he had noticed as time passed, his remembrances of her were fleeting and growing hazy. A smell or snippets of conversation were recalled more readily than actual images of her or whole dialogues. It was cruel of time to be stealing even this last part of her he could hold onto, his memories.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, and tried not to think of the woman in the other tent not three yards from him.


	10. Chapter 10

In my mind, I saw the Cousland brothers as almost two halves of the same whole. Why would Bryce leave the wild and chaotic Michael in charge in Highever and send his dependable, responsible brother south to fight in Ostagar? For this chapter I present what I think might have been the elder Cousland's reasoning behind the decision. No one reason, of course as there seldom are any simple answers when dealing with people, but several factors came into play.

* * *

Chapter Ten

Shielding his eyes from the late summer sun, Fergus lay crouched low to the ground. Bann Telman's lands were rolling hills and some forest. When Loghain's men had moved in trying to take over, Telman objected, energetically.

In the past two months he'd been playing the part of a disaffected knight errant, making coin helping this bann or that fend off Loghain's troops, while looking for support to regain Highever. None of them were in a position to help him, so he did what he could, making plans for the day he would be home again.

Looking over at Leah he smiled. This wouldn't have been half so bearable without her, he realized.

Still looking for her brother, of whom they had heard nothing since Denerim, Leah had remained with him. He was surprised to find in addition to being an excellent scout and tracker, she was quite the scrapper, being wickedly fast with her daggers and nimble on her feet. There were many times her quick blades had saved his life and Fergus was both impressed and grateful.

About thirty yards ahead, the captain was meeting with Loghain's men, discussing terms, which usually entailed Loghain's men making threats and giving ultimatums and the banns declining.

From the set of their shoulders Fergus saw it wasn't going to end peacefully this time either. _Big surprise_, he thought, rolling his eyes.

Beside him, Leah grinned. As a child, she had displayed a talent for mischief and that hadn't diminished with adulthood. Sometimes Fergus worried about her—she took too many risks. Like Michael had, though, she seemed to live a charmed life. He worried what would happen when her luck ran out as Michael's had.

The negotiators broke apart and the white flag of parley was discarded as the captain returned to his troops.

"Andraste's holy knickers," the captain cursed. "In the name of the regent….We aren't Orlesian lickspittles. We won't roll over for the usurper. It's to be a fight, men."

The battle was quickly joined after that. Though Loghain's men often won the battles, this time the fight went to Bann Telman's men.

For his part, Fergus was growing weary of this life. War demanded willful killing, even willful dying, but the line of what was right and wrong was beginning to blur. Never a coward, he was always first to respond if there was trouble, but lately it seemed this fight was less about standing up to a tyrant and more about just fighting to be fighting. And that seemed like a monumental loss of manpower and resources to him.

Michael was the warrior, always ready for a fight, as if he had something to prove—Fergus had no stomach for it. He wondered why his father had insisted on keeping Michael at the castle. Fergus had been the responsible, dependable one—Michael was bored to tears when shackled to responsibility. Maybe his father was trying to get Michael to grow up. Maybe it was for Mother's sake, since she had always been a little closer to her 'pup' than her firstborn.

He collected his pay and saddled up. Leah followed him.

"Where are we going now?" she asked.

"I want to go home, Leah," he replied.

Her eyes widened and she grabbed his arm, trying to stop him.

"That's insane, you'll be killed!"

"No, not the castle. I just miss Highever. I want to go home, see its hills and smell the sea air. I…miss my family, Leah. There has to be something more to this fight than just fighting. I want to remember why I'm doing this.

"This all started with the Blight, and I don't know why everyone seems to have forgotten that. Lothering's been swallowed up and already you can see areas of taint in the Bannorn. Loghain is a fool if he wants to continue this damn fight. We should be battling the darkspawn, not each other."

"All right," she nodded, getting her own mount.

They turned north, traveling through West Hills on their way to Highever. Arl Wulff had been a good friend to Bryce Cousland and Fergus wanted to check in on them as well. As they neared Wulff's arling, he saw things weren't going well for West Hills at all. They were encountering refugees heading east, those quick enough to evacuate.

Ahead Fergus saw their middle child, Edwina, riding with a small child on her mount. Kneeing his horse, he urged it toward the young woman who looked at him as if seeing a ghost.

"Fergus! Maker's breath is that you? We thought you died at Ostagar!"

They clasped hands with huge grins then both became grimfaced again.

"What's happening?" Fergus asked.

Edwina shook her head and passed the little girl she was riding with to a woman, presumably her mother. Fergus didn't like the look on her face.

"West Hills has fallen." Tears slipped out of her eyes as she gathered her strength to speak. "Ian and Scott were lost. They seemed to just…come out of the ground—they were everywhere at once. Scott…he was trying to protect me when they…."

Closing her eyes, she bowed her head, unable to continue.

"This is all that you could get out?" he asked.

"All those who could travel immediately."

"Where are your parents?"

"Father is part of the rear guard. Mother is here, somewhere…." She looked around, but not seeing her, she gave up looking.

Fergus's brow knitted in sympathy. Both her brothers lost and Scott had only been fourteen. And West Hills was overrun. How far had the darkspawn gotten while people had been fighting a senseless civil war? West Hills wasn't far from Highever's lands and if the darkspawn had gotten this far, it boded ill for the rest of Ferelden.

With even greater urgency than before, he felt the need to get home to Highever.

"Where are you going now, Edwina?" Fergus asked.

"We're heading east to Denerim. Arl Eamon has called for a Landsmeet to deal with the Blight. It's been said he's found an heir for the throne."

"Cailan had a child?" Leah gasped.

"Not a child, a brother, well, a half-brother."

"Edwina, when this is over, if I can reclaim my teyrnir, you and your family will always be welcome there. Please let me know if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you. Fergus, Maker be with you."

"And with you, 'Winna."

They parted company under the summer sun, Fergus and Leah watching as those who had survived the darkspawn invasion of West Hills made their way to parts east. Turning their mounts, Fergus and Leah rode northeasterly for Highever.

* * *

In the interim of the months following their arrival and subsequent dealing with the corpses, Howe's men had returned to Cousland Castle and established their headquarters there. The guard was more alert—they knew the corpses had been burned and expected trouble, so he had to keep his distance. Leah insisted on scouting out the situation and learned that they had already begun reconstruction on the damaged walls and one was completely restored now.

The problem here was he was never good with planning. He could administer well, get things planned in the day to day running of the teyrnir, even organizing and training troops, but actual battle-planning eluded him. That was Michael's forte, even if Michael's schemes were insane they usually succeeded _because_ they were so far out of the box no one saw them coming.

Perhaps this was why his father had put Michael in charge when the blight began. Fergus felt comfortable in the role of a 'peacetime teyrn.' But it was to Michael that even he turned when there was trouble. There was something about his brother that inspired men, and made him an excellent leader in a crisis.

All he could think of to do was wage a campaign of attrition against patrols, making him an annoyance to the guards at most. Of Howe, he hadn't seen anything. Doubtless he was staying close to Loghain in Denerim.

As they rode, his mind kept going back to West Hills. So many families lost in all this. Blight, betrayal, war—did it really matter how? Fergus had lost everything he had to hold onto except for the one constant that had remained.

His eyes went to Leah again, grateful she was still with him. Why would she have stayed? He had expected her to leave him and go looking for Oswyn, but she continued to travel with him.

Lately it was getting harder and harder to deny his growing feelings for her. They had nothing to do with brotherly or protective and everything to do with something deeper.

* * *

That afternoon they encountered some stragglers from the darkspawn horde. Although neither were Grey Wardens, they acquitted themselves well in the fight. They camped near a tributary of the River Dane and washed off the blood. Neither had been bitten and it appeared that none of the blood had penetrated their skin, but Leah had received a pretty nasty wound across her rib cage.

After they had both had a bath in the river, Fergus insisted she sit and let him tend it. They had more scars now, having been fighting pretty heavily the past few months, and had learned a lot about taking care of wounds.

She winced when he probed the wound gently looking for any broken bones under it. Satisfied the blood there was hers only and the wounds weren't more extensive than his cursory first look, he took out an herbal poultice and wrapped it around her torso.

His fingers lingered on her a bit longer than he needed, too. She was watching him tend her wound, only occasionally wincing though he was sure it must have hurt.

"Leah," he said, quietly.

She didn't look up at him. "What, Fergus?"

"Why have you stayed?"

She paused so long he didn't think she would answer him before she sighed and spoke.

"I was worried about you."

"I'm a grown man, Leah, I can take care of myself."

"I know. I just…like being around you, too."

Smiling, he had to admit she'd made a big difference in things the past few months. He wasn't sure he would've been able to make it after all that happened if she hadn't been there to help him. Still, you don't risk life and limb just to hang around with someone because you enjoy their company. He was beginning to suspect the real reason had a lot more to do with it than keeping him company.

Occasionally, he would catch her watching him, or they would accidentally brush hands when passing something over to the other in camp and he could swear she was feeling the same as he was. Of course, it had been some time since he had flirted with any woman, and Oriana's signals had been much easier to read.

"You're right, of course. These are very unsettling times and I'm glad to have you with me as well."

She actually seemed surprised. "You are?"

"Of course, I am! Leah, I don't think I could have gotten through all this without you. Leah, no, why are you crying?"

Sobbing, she buried her face in her hands and he pulled her into a hug. With her head lying on his shoulder, he could smell the scented soap she had used on her hair. He leaned his cheek against it and stroked her back, trying to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry. Please don't cry."

"Why do you have to be so wonderful?" she sobbed. "It just makes it harder!"

"I'm sorry. Should I be an arse?" he asked, beginning to suspect it was her feelings getting all tangled up that was making her so distressed.

Giggling wetly, she wiped her eyes and sat up to look at him. Grinning, he wiped away her tears with his thumbs, holding her face.

"No, I don't suppose that would make it any easier either," she admitted.

"There, that's better. Those pretty eyes shouldn't be filled with tears, only laughter. Why is it harder when I am nice, Leah?"

"I…don't want to say, Fergus."

He had never been confident with women, not like Michael. In fact, it had been Michael, as young as he had been, who had come up with the plan to woo and win Oriana for Fergus. When he felt too close to someone he always got awkward. Realizing he had become close to Leah, too, he had wanted to be subtle and suave, play his cards close to his chest like Michael would have, but that wouldn't work for Fergus because he wasn't Michael.

Deciding he would risk it, he swallowed and spoke. "I've been very glad to have you with me, Leah. When I returned from Ostagar, I lost everything, except you. Even when I was a complete idiot, you were always there, my friend and my rock. You wouldn't let me sink into self pity, and forced me to face reality when I needed to. You never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself.

"You've been wonderful, Leah, and I did something to make you unhappy with me. I know I had to have, and for the life of me I don't know what it was. You changed after that night in the tavern. What did I do or say to make you so unhappy?"

Frowning, she looked at him, her eyes searching his face. "You really don't remember do you? I…told you how I felt and it wasn't a good time."

"I'm sorry, Leah. I never meant to hurt you."

"I know. It was my fault, I should've known better."

"Please, I promise, I won't get upset, but I have to know, what exactly did you say to me?"

"Fergus, it's so humiliating. Why bring this up now?"

Maker's breath, how awful was he to her? "Was I a complete arse to you? Please, just tell me, Leah, whatever it is. I promise, it'll be alright, but I have to know."

A suggestion of a smile crossed her lips. "Actually, you were very sweet, but I had to face reality then, too."

She looked down at her feet, her jaw working as she fought with herself. Then, in a voice so quiet he almost couldn't hear she blurted it out. "I told you I loved you."

His arms went around her waist to hold her close to him, and his heart raced, pounding madly in his ears. Her arms crept around his torso to mold her to him and he marveled at how well they fit together. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating from her.

She began to cry again and laid her head on his shoulder. "Don't be so nice. I know it was a bad time for you. You really weren't that wretched to me."

His lips brushed her ear as he spoke into it. "I'm not 'just being nice,' Leah. I…." Words failed him. With a sigh, he realized words always failed him. He had to try again for her sake. "You're right, that wasn't a very good time for me. When I found Oriana and Oren I wanted to die. I probably would have died if it weren't for you. But it isn't just gratitude, Leah. I…care for you. I have for a while now. I've just been fighting it because I wasn't ready to stop grieving for what I had lost. Now, seeing everything around us dying or being overrun, I don't want…to lose you, too."

Then, there was no more need for words, and when his lips found hers, it felt natural and right.


	11. Chapter 11

Some intimate times ensue this chapter (M) rated type. As before, you have been warned if this isn't your cup of tea.

My thanks to Cadsuane for her beta reading skills and assistance with smoothing out the intimate parts of the chapter.

The usual thank you's and disclaimers continue to apply.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Leah watched Fergus walk down to the river to wash up. While they had resolved the issues of awkwardness between them, a new one had arisen. Fergus had spoken of his feelings to her, and she was delighted he cared for her, too. The problem was Fergus was too much of a gentleman to make any move beyond the kiss they'd shared a few days ago.

She knew Oriana had been his first real relationship and that it had been Michael who'd schemed to get the two of them to admit their feelings for each other. Had it been up to Fergus, doubtless he would be a bachelor still. It didn't appear anything had changed and it was beginning to look like she would have to make the first move.

With a sigh, she pulled off her boots and followed him. By the time she got down to his spot in the river, he'd already entered. His broad back was to her and she bit her lip in a conflict of emotion. Part of her was excited and thrilled at seeing him, part of her was nervous it was going to end as badly as last time, and yet another part of her was afraid he would turn her away, trying to do the 'honorable' thing.

She pulled off the rest of her clothes, hanging them from a tree and quietly stepped up to the shoreline. At the first sound of her footfalls in the slow flowing water, Fergus turned and gasped, wide-eyed at the naked woman wading into the water. She looked at him and then moved further past him, setting off for the far side with strong strokes. Stealing a glance back at him, nervous at how he would react, she grinned to see his eyes hadn't left her.

Good.

She swam across, stood waist deep on the shelf in the water on the other side, and flipped her hair back over her shoulder, watching him from the corner of her eye. Maker's breath, he hadn't moved. Maybe she'd been too bold? She closed her eyes and sighed. This was a stupid idea anyway. Turning back around to dive in she saw he had disappeared.

"Now, where did he get off to?" she asked aloud.

Suddenly, she felt a hand grab her ankle and drag her under. Resurfacing, sputtering, she rubbed her eyes as he popped up beside her, grinning madly. She returned the grin. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all!

"So, that's one way to get my attention," he said.

"Did it work?" she asked, tilting her head coyly.

"Too well." A frown crossed his brow. "Leah, are you sure this is what you want? I don't want to compromise your honor."

"I know. It's a little too late for that."

The frown deepened, then his eyes widened as he realized what she was implying. Panic started to take over.

"_That's_ what I did when I was drunk? Oh, Leah, I'm so sorry! Did I…hurt you?"

Ducking her head, she realized he couldn't handle the truth, so she lied. "No, of course not, I…. You weren't my first. You were very sweet, Fergus, you didn't hurt me. I was just unhappy about things afterward."

"I wasn't your first? Did my brother take advantage of you?"

"Michael?" she laughed at the idea. "Michael's not my type. He's fun and adventurous, but even I know I need someone a bit more stable in my life since I tend to get into trouble easily. And no one 'took advantage' of me. My first time I thought I was in love before I even knew what love was, but I was fully aware and consenting, Fergus."

He seemed relieved and she swam closer to him to put her arms around his neck. There would be time later, she hoped, to relieve herself of this little lie when she was more confident in his feelings. Until then, she would have to accept he wasn't ready for the truth.

His arms went around her waist and pulled her close to him, his lips hovering just over hers, leaving it to her to go that final fraction of an inch. When she closed that distance, he kissed her eagerly, his mouth teasing hers, his tongue dancing across her teeth. Now that she knew how wonderful being that close to someone was, she wanted it with Fergus so intensely she pressed herself as close as she could, trying to not even allow the water to get between them.

Looking up from the kiss, they realized the current had brought them down a bit from where they had entered the river and they swam back, fighting the current to their original position leaving the water to stand on the shore.

Grabbing their clothes, arms around each other's waists, they returned to their camp.

Their garments were discarded on his bedroll, forgotten for the moment as they kissed again with growing urgency. He grasped her hips, pulling her closer to him and she could feel his need between them, pressing against her stomach. Her fingers curled into his dark brown hair and pressed closer to him as his lips trailed down her throat, pausing at her breasts to tease her pink nipples erect before he went lower. He kissed her belly, a gesture at the same time arousing and infinitely tender, pulling at her heart as much as her body.

His hands caressed the firm shape of her buttocks, moving along the back of her legs and up the inside of her thighs. She gasped when he kissed her soft mound and felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.

"Fergus, I have to sit down," she gasped.

He chuckled and let her lay in front of him on her bedroll, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. Cheeks burning under his scrutiny, she smiled up at him. Then, he was kissing her again, her body responding to his touch, eagerly and out of her control.

His lips moved to her ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth and sucking on it, making her shiver when his breath blew across it and sent jolts of pleasure down her spine. His hands began an exploration of her body, learning what pleased her and what didn't. Teasing her nipples with lips and fingers brought him a response of soft little moans and pants of pleasure, encouraging him to move his fingers lower, across her abdomen.

Emboldened by the intensity of her desire, Leah began her own exploration, discovering the texture of his skin and the play of muscles under them. Her fingers ran over the little scars he had picked up over the past year, through the curling hairs on his chest, following the line down to his manhood where she caressed him. Gasping, he closed his eyes, but his expression didn't discourage her.

His fingers caressed up her inner thigh sending little threads of excitement to her core, but she tensed when his fingers reached her sex and he paused, sensing her trepidation. Resting his hand on her mound, he kissed her again.

"Relax, love," he whispered against her lips. "I promise, it won't hurt this time and I need to make you ready for me."

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she nodded and smiled up at him, trusting him.

He kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth as his fingers parted her and one delved into her. Moaning against his lips, she felt him explore her gently, the curious, almost ticklish sensation of his fingers causing her hips to move toward him in response. His palm pressed the little button that was the core of her pleasure making her arch into his touch. Encouraged, he continued, slipping another finger beside the first.

"Oh, _Maker_…Fergus….please, I…need…something…" she gasped, barely able to complete a coherent thought, let alone try to tell him she was feeling.

"I know, love, I'll attend to that," he whispered, reassuringly.

He positioned himself between her thighs and lifting her hips toward him, he entered her. Closing her eyes, she tried not to tense up with remembered pain, but, as he'd promised, there was none. She felt only pleasure as his length moved inside her. Wrapping her legs around him and gripping him with her thighs, she tried to match his pace, feeling a delightful tension beginning to build up inside her.

His lips found hers again as she felt the white explosion behind her eyes once more, that deliciously tense, expectant feeling finding release at last. Moments later she felt his climax within her and the long shudder of pleasure that shook his body.

Gasping, spent, he tried to support himself on his elbows and knees. Then failing that, he collapsed on her, his face buried in her shoulder. Leah loved this part best of all. That feeling of _oneness_ she felt with Fergus—feeling their sweat and breath mingling, his body pressing her down into the bedroll under them, being so close to Fergus she could feel his racing heart against her chest.

This intimate moment of joining was worth any pain or struggle she'd been through all the past months to achieve.

After catching his breath, he kissed her skin under his lips and murmured to her, "I must be heavy."

Pushing up, he tried to move off her and roll to the side, but she held him to her. "No, I like this."

Chuckling, he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Well, we can cuddle just as close and more comfortably side-by–side, don't you think?"

With a small sigh she relinquished him and half expected him to roll over and go to sleep, but he settled onto his back, pulling her into the circle of his arms and holding her close to him, watching the blue sky above them with its lazy, slow moving clouds.

For a time there were no words between them, just the slowing of their racing heartbeats and the lingering, languorous afterglow of their lovemaking.

When he did speak, his words were almost a thunderclap in the silence.

"I'm sorry for what happened before, Leah," he said. "You deserved better for your first time than some grieving drunk. You deserved wine and candles and roses…."

She frowned. "I told you, Fergus, you weren't my first."

"Leah, you're many things: resourceful, beautiful, loving and capable. But you're a lousy liar. All the same, I thank you for trying."

She sighed. He knew. "What gave me away?"

"The way you acted when I touched you, as if you expected pain. I knew then that you'd been with a man only once before. It's always painful for a woman's first time, and I was too drunk to make sure it was the best it could have been. I'm sorry for that."

"It wasn't terrible, Fergus. You were sweet and gentle and you did give me pleasure despite the circumstances."

He rolled over and looked at her, kissed her again, his fingers caressing her cheek.

"I hope I managed to make up a bit for that first time today?"

She grinned. "Oh, nay, my lord, you haven't. You've only just begun…."


	12. Chapter 12

This update begins a friendly collaboration between Xandurpein and I. While both "Rebel and the Queen" and "For the Love of Leah" are stand alone stories, this chapter and the subsequent ones and starting with Chapter 15 of his story, both run concurrently and tell the tale from the PoV of the two Cousland brothers and their women. We hope to get these all released on the same days so you can enjoy the story from both sides.

My thanks to Xandurpein for the fun of sharing our tales, for the male PoV for my story and for additional dialogues for Anora and Michael. Thanks to Cadsuane for her coordination of the stories, beta reading skills and creative input. Thank you to Bioware for the people and world of Thedas without whom I wouldn't be having so much fun writing this tale as all rights and properties belong to them, not I. Thank you to all those who read and review my story, especially Shakespira who really gets what I am trying to write.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Fergus looked at the castle lit by the light of the moon above it. Leah was crouched next to him. Once they'd learned of the Teyrn of Gwaren's return to the seat of his teyrnir, they had risked coming here.

Howe was dead. Word was the Arl of Amaranthine had been found guilty of kidnapping nobles and torturing them—Leah's brother, Oswyn, being one of those. In a daring raid to free the captured Queen Anora, the Grey Wardens had killed Howe and freed those he'd imprisoned in the dungeons, including the rightful Arl of Denerim, Vaughan Kendalls, and Bann Alfstanna's brother, the templar Ser Irminric. Fergus didn't particularly care for Vaughan, there was something about the man he didn't trust, but Irminric had been a childhood friend.

There had been conflicting stories about the Landsmeet after that. A fight had broken out between Arl Eamon's men and Loghain's, and the rumors said the Landsmeet had chosen to side with Eamon and the Wardens, branding Loghain a traitor on the spot. That was when everything got fuzzy. Some said he was executed by the new king and others had said he was languishing in the tower with his deposed daughter, Anora.

Two days ago, they'd heard a rumor that Anora had returned to Gwaren, and the teyrn was with her.

Howe was forever out of his reach—his dreams of vengeance against the man had died with him. Fergus found his anger had a new focus: Anora and her father. If Loghain were dead, he could live with it, but if he were here in Gwaren—safe from reprisals for Ostagar, for supporting Howe's takeover of Highever—Fergus would see the man dead at his feet. There would be no safety for anyone who harmed Fergus's family _anywhere _in all of Ferelden_._

A glance at Leah brought a frown to his face. Until now, she had been supportive and had agreed to all of his plans. They disagreed on this matter, but because she loved him, she was here with him. His frown smoothed out as he looked at her and he smiled, his hand covering hers to squeeze it in reassurance.

* * *

Leah watched Fergus warily. Over the past few months he had gone from a stable family man to a grieving father and widower to a rebel, and through it all she had seen the man she knew. This man he was now was someone else—he'd become grim and filled with a need to punish the wicked. She couldn't get him to give up this latest mission no matter what and she was along now trying one last time to dissuade him from this reckless course.

She wanted to go home and see Oswyn. Of her brother she knew only that he lived. The stories she'd heard of Howe's mistreatment of him and other captured nobles had only conjured images in her head that grew more grisly as time passed. Doubtless, Father and Mother needed her, too. With Oswyn rescued, she was to have returned home, and this, another absence from home, would only make them worry more.

She put a hand over her abdomen. There was another reason to return to safety and home, though she hadn't yet confessed it to Fergus. They had continued to make love during their travels and she now carried a little secret under her heart she'd been afraid to confess. Fergus had yet to tell her he loved her, though she knew he cared about her, and he was always tender and caring in his lovemaking. If she told him about the baby, how would she ever know he was with her for her and not just for the sake of their child?

Smiling tentatively at him, she felt his hand squeeze hers before he looked back up toward the castle, watching.

* * *

After a bit, Fergus saw Anora step out onto a balcony accompanied by a man with dark hair. The man's face was in shadow and his back was to Fergus, but there was something familiar in his stance and carriage. Fergus supposed this must be Loghain. He'd seen the teyrn at the Landsmeet and spoken to him briefly when his contingent had been given their scouting orders in Ostagar.

Anora's posture was tense, almost antagonistic. The man bent and kissed her cheek, his hand on her elbow. Anora angrily waved him off, but didn't pull away completely. That confirmed it. He couldn't hear their conversation, but only Loghain could have attempted such familiarity with the former queen and get away with it.

Nodding, confident he had pinpointed at least one of their rooms, he moved quietly forward. He felt the tug as Leah's hand slipped from his. Brow raised in question, he looked back at her. She shook her head and then glanced away, a worried frown on her face.

He took her hands. "Leah, this is more than revenge. I have to know. I have to know if they knew anything about Howe's plans. I have to make some sense out of all this mess."

"Do you plan on killing them?" she asked.

He frowned. "I don't know. I won't know until I get up there, look him in the eyes and see the truth there."

There was a long pause as she seemed to be considering something. Then she spoke, "Fergus, what if I told you there's something better than this? That there is sense in all this mess. Would you give up this mad plan?"

"What is it, Leah?"

Something in her expression told him she wanted to say something, but was holding back. She shook her head, hopelessly. "N-Nothing. I was just asking."

"I promise, I won't go in sword swinging unless I have to," he said. "You can stay here if you want to. You don't have to go inside."

* * *

Tears welled up and overflowed as the conflict his simple statement caused threatened to tear her apart. Her fear for him almost exceeded her need to protect the growing life they had begun inside her. In the end, she chose to protect that life.

"This is crazy, Fergus. But you won't listen to me. Do what you must, I-I will stay here."

He kissed her, passionately, fiercely, and she clung to him desperately, praying this reckless venture wouldn't end disastrously for him.

"I'll be back," he promised. "Just let me do this and I'll be done. Then we'll go back to Dragon's Peak."

When she looked into his eyes, she wasn't seeing Fergus. She saw Michael and that "throw caution to the wind" rogue expression. It didn't suit the older Cousland brother and made him seem a little mad.

_Perhaps we're all going a little mad, _she thought.

Watching his retreating form slip into the shadows, she slipped back into the shadows of the forest to begin the long wait.

She had hoped when he heard the news that Howe was dead, he would've found some peace, that the nightmares would stop, but they had only grown in intensity. It was as if denied his vengeance, he had no outlet for the growing anger inside him.

It was more than that this was a foolhardy adventure—it was his general attitude, as if he had lost any sense of self preservation or good sense. It was as if the spirit of Michael had seized him and wasn't letting go.

She knew it was the loneliness that tore at him. He cared for her, and they were together constantly, but she knew she was no substitute for the family he'd lost. At night he would call out to them in his sleep. To her surprise, it was Michael who was the most in his dreams, but then he had found closure for the rest of his family. They had never found Michael or heard anything of him the past months.

Their last hope, that he might have been in Howe's dungeons, alive or dead, had been dashed. Fergus had gone a little mad when he heard that, and that madness had persisted to this endeavor.

_Maker, _she prayed, _I have never asked you for anything else, but I'm asking you now. Please don't make my baby grow up never knowing his or her daddy._

* * *

Fergus edged along the wall and looked around, carefully scanning his surroundings before he moved across the courtyard to the trellis below the balcony. Grabbing it, he found it was sturdy enough to probably support his weight for the climb. Looking around once more, he saw no one nearby and began his ascent.

The trellis wasn't as sturdy as he'd first thought, and midway through his climb it began to creak in protest. No one seemed to have noticed yet and so he continued his climb. He managed to slip onto the balcony without breaking down the entire thing though he doubted he would have the nerve to go back down that way.

The doors were still open to the night to allow some of the air to flow into the room and he hugged the wall, trying to be as quiet as possible so he could listen to the people inside.

He smirked, covering his mouth to keep from laughing. It sounded like Anora was being spanked like a naughty child! The unmistakable sound of a palm hitting a bottom rang out several times accompanied by shrieks. In his younger days Fergus had been on the receiving end of enough spankings to definitely recognize the sounds, though it seemed there were more spaces between the slaps than he had experienced. Then everything went quiet.

He frowned, holding his breath and straining his ears in order to hear, then his eyes widened in shock at the unmistakable sounds coming from the room. No, he had to be mistaken. It couldn't be! Maker's breath! With his own daughter? And her begging for it! What kind of sick…no, he wouldn't just hover out here and listen to that!

Filled with righteous indignation and forgetting his purpose, Fergus drew his sword and stormed into the room.

"_You people are sick_!_ Stop that right now_!"

Anora shrieked, and Fergus gasped in sudden recognition as the man with Anora reached for a sword, while, the blushing woman tried to pull her skirts down. Dumbstruck Fergus stared gaping at the man in Anora's bed.

"Mi…Michael…" Fergus stammered, not trusting his eyes.

Michael Cousland stared back at his brother wide-eyed. Then a huge grin broke in his face.

"Fergus! Maker's breath, _you're alive_!"

Michael, yanking his trousers up hastily, bounded off the bed and clasped his brother in a warm hug. Fergus held his little brother close, tears slipping out of his eyes, afraid this was a spirit and not flesh and blood. He wasn't the last. Maker's breath, he wasn't the last anymore.

"Doesn't anyone in your family use the front door?" Anora asked acrimoniously.

The fact that Michael was dry-eyed didn't detract from his obvious pleasure at seeing Fergus again. He leaned over Anora and kissed her cheek.

"Not to worry, buttercup, I'll take him to task for his lack of decorum. Don't you move, I'll be back to attend to you shortly."

"No need to hurry," Anora said acridly. "I think we're quite finished for the evening."

"Don't be like that, dear," Michael retorted in a mock serious tone. "I told you security was atrocious here."

"And we agreed that you would be responsible for improving it. Just do your job and leave me be," Anora answered haughtily.

"Give me a moment. I'm getting the intruder out of your bedroom now," Michael replied and winked at Fergus.

Fergus witnessed the banter between the two in wonder. At first he couldn't decide what to make of it, but one thing was soon clear to him. He knew that gleam in his brother's eye—Michael, somehow and someway, was obviously quite smitten by Anora.

Michael led Fergus out of the room and they stepped into an adjacent chamber to talk quietly.

"I…I thought you were dead," Fergus said, his hand gripping his brother's arm, still unable to believe he was really standing here. "I only thought I should do something. I had this wild idea to attack or abduct the Queen. I had no idea."

"I know what you mean," Michael said laughing. "I had the same thought."

"It's a long story, one that can wait for morning. Let me have the servants set you up in a room, we can talk later. Suffice to say, I've had quite an adventure the past few months."

"Wait, there's someone with me. I have to go get her! She'll be so thrilled to see you're alive!"

* * *

A bit later, Leah joined Fergus and his brother and was delighted to see the younger Cousland had survived and was doing well for himself.

"So, married to Anora Mac Tir, eh?" Fergus teased. "Mother and Father would have been thrilled to see you settling down."

Michael laughed as if the very idea of it amused him to no end. "She's a damn fine woman, but I'll admit I was more interested in her army than in her when we wed. We're going to need one to retake Highever. Anyway, this can all wait till morning. Fergus caught me…in a delicate moment with my wife, Leah, so you'll excuse me if I attend to that before the bed grows cold again."

"Fergus! You didn't!" Leah gasped.

"I thought…I…." He flushed and suddenly didn't seem eager to say what he had thought was going on.

"Come here, pest, and give me a hug," said Michael, holding out his arms to Leah. "We'll talk in the morning."

"I'm so glad you're alive," Leah murmured into his ear as he bent to hug her. "You have no idea what this means to Fergus."

He smiled at her. "Really, I do, Leah."

Michael called for a servant and tasked him with showing Fergus and Leah to a guest room. Then he slipped away as the servant led them down the stairs. When they reached their room and the servant had left the two of them alone, Leah turned to speak to Fergus only to find herself swept off her feet and swung around into a warm, happy, exuberant hug. She giggled and wrapped her arms around him.

"He's alive! He's alive!" he kept repeating against her ear. "My brother is alive, Leah!"

He was insatiable that night, making love to her and leaving her limp and gasping as the sun rose over the horizon.

* * *

It was late morning by the time she woke to find Fergus had already left the room, doubtless speaking with his brother. She smiled and placed her hands over her baby protectively.

"That was your Uncle Michael last night. He's going to be such a great uncle," she said. "Your daddy was so happy to see him."

She bounded out of bed happily, then felt her stomach protest and leaned over a chamber pot to expel its contents. Her bouts of morning sickness hadn't been often, but this morning had followed a very stressful day. Doubtless, she would feel better after a nice breakfast.

A young elven servant entered the room and stopped, staring in surprise at Leah.

"Forgive me, my lady, I thought you were already up and out of the room. I've been sent to attend to your comfort personally by my lady," she said. She frowned and her gaze scrutinized Leah's slightly rounded belly and the chamber pot as Leah hastily scrambled to grab her clothes. "I can give you a bit more time to compose yourself if you need"

"No, just help me get my clothes on. I need to find Fergus," she said.

"He is speaking with my lady and the teyrn in the main hall. A messenger from Denerim has arrived."

She pulled on her shirt and trousers, noticing by the tightness of the waistband that the baby was starting to make his or her presence known. Soon she would have to choose other attire. The elven woman, who said her name was Erlina, looked curiously at her, but said nothing as she remained behind to tidy the room when Leah went to find Fergus.

Downstairs, she saw Fergus, Michael and Anora gathered and speaking in low tones. Their posture was tense and she felt a rise of trepidation at seeing them.

Fergus saw her and strode over to her, hugging her.

"The darkspawn have reached Denerim," he said. "The king's army is marching from Redcliffe with the rest of the forces the Grey Wardens have assembled, but it'll be several days before they reach the city."

"We can use the port here in Gwaren, cut the amount of time it will take to reach Denerim. We can reinforce the city's defenses and hopefully hold off the horde until the Grey Wardens and their armies get there," said Michael. "We can't just sit here and do nothing. I'll gather the troops and we'll begin departing on the hour."

Something unsaid hovered in and air and Leah shivered. "You aren't telling me everything," she said.

Fergus held her face in his palms, looking at her. "The archdemon has shown itself, Leah. The Grey Wardens were right. This is a Blight. Every man will be needed for this."

"No, Fergus, it's not fair! You only just found your brother. You can't go! I—"

"Leah, this isn't the civil war, this isn't a game, and we don't do this for vengeance. We fight for all the innocents in Ferelden, in Denerim. Leah, I'm doing this for you, so you'll be safe. I'm a Cousland. Michael is a Cousland. This is in our blood. We know our duty and Cousland's always do their duty."

"Duty…" she repeated, the word sounding hollow. "How can you hope to defeat an archdemon and a horde of darkspawn? You didn't see them, Fergus, see what they did…."

"No, but Michael did. That's how he survived Howe's attack. He took Father's place in Ostagar, running away from the castle the night I rode out with Father's men. We don't plan on defeating the Blight ourselves, just buying some time for King Alistair's army to get there."

"Then, let me come with you! I can fight, I can help you!"

He shook his head, for once denying her. This wasn't the first time she'd been told "no," or even the most vocal denial, but it was the one that carried the most weight. "No, Leah, I have to know you're safe. It's important to me. You'll stay here until we return."

"Go then!" she snapped, frayed nerves finally breaking. "Go off to Denerim and die! But if you don't die, don't look for me. I won't be here! You promised me we would go home!" She broke then, beginning to cry as a wave of homesickness and a need to find a safe haven for her child overwhelmed her. "I want to go home! I want my mother!"

She spun on her heel, knowing even as she raced away, sobbing, that she was being irrational. Denerim was helpless, with only a handful of men to protect it and a population of thousands housed inside. Michael's army might make the difference between total devastation and survivors. But she couldn't seem to control her emotions anymore, sometimes crying over little things.

This was no little thing.

Upstairs in the room she threw herself onto the bed. After a bit, she heard Fergus enter the room and come to her, pulling her into his arms. After a weak protest, she allowed him to hold her. He buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath.

"Leah, don't be angry. This is what I must do. And this isn't how I want to remember you."

"Just put your armor on and go," she muttered.

With a sigh, he frowned and moved to the stand he'd placed his armor on last night. Watching him dress, she rose from the bed and moved over to buckle his armor for him, wrapping his belt around his waist and handing him his sword.

"I love you, Fergus," she said.

He smiled down at her and kissed her tenderly and she wondered how such a warm, loving, demonstrative man couldn't bring himself to say the words to her.

"Smile for me, Leah," he said, his fingers touching under her chin to lift her face to him. "I'll be back before you know it."

Then he had left with Michael. She stood on the balcony to watch him ride out with his brother. Beside her, Anora stood stone-faced watching them leave. A tear formed in Leah's eye.

"Don't cry," Anora said tonelessly. "He's a Cousland. He'll risk his life in some insane and unnecessary manner, but he'll survive. That's what they always do."

Leah turned to look at Anora, and for a brief moment she imagined she could see the anguish beneath the woman's hard shell before Anora walked back inside and left her alone. She shook her head feeling she must have imagined it. Anora was always so cold and distant, like her father, the teyrn, had been.

Leah sighed to herself. She desperately wanted Fergus to live, but in the end that wouldn't help her. She was never going to hear him say the words she needed to hear because, though he cared for her, he didn't love her. Even departing knowing he might die, he hadn't said it. Gathering her things and walking out to the stables, she saddled her horse and rode out of the castle.

If the Blight was going to overrun everything, she was going home. She wanted to see her brother and parents one last time.


	13. Chapter 13

Wherein Fergus gets some critical, 'need to know' information.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

The Blight was ended.

Denerim was a wreck, but thanks to the army from Gwaren, the defenders had been able to hold long enough for Grey Wardens and their army to arrive and the loss of life hadn't been nearly as great as it could have been.

Fergus and Michael had stayed long enough to see the horde routed upon the death of the archdemon, a spectacular end that had come in a huge flash of light on the roof of Fort Drakon. It was said the Grey Warden mage, the same one Fergus had met in the inn outside the Circle Tower months ago, had delivered the killing blow on the Old God.

Unable to wait, Fergus had pressed Michael to return to Gwaren, but the journey seemed to take forever. He was impatient to see Leah again and Michael seemed to be watching him even more closely than usual. Joining him at the bow, his brother stood next to Fergus to watch the stars overhead guiding them.

"Captain says we'll be putting into port tomorrow afternoon. Calm down, Fergus, we're almost there."

"I just want to get home, to see she's safe."

There was silence between them a bit. Then, "So, are you going to tell me how long you've been in love with 'the pest?'" Michael asked.

"I will, if you tell me how long you've been in love with 'the iceberg,'" Fergus countered.

Michael laughed. Maker, how Fergus had missed that laugh.

"Still waters run deep, Fergus. You were right—she's opinionated, exasperating, stubborn and damn me if I don't love her for it."

"You know, you've just described yourself, too, little brother," Fergus replied.

"That's why we suit each other," Michael explained, smiling. "She keeps me on my toes."

Fergus grinned, remembering all the pretty young girls his parents had introduced Michael to. None of them had caught his interest.

"You never would've been satisfied with anything less. I half expected you and Leah…."

"Leah?" Michael snorted. "You really are a blind sot, you know that? Leah's had the worst crush on you since…_forever_. Besides, she's more like a sister to me than a lover."

He elbowed Fergus in the ribs. "And stop worrying. You're going to feel like an idiot when you get home and discover she's fine and just pissed off at you for leaving her behind like you did. Then you'll wish you were back in Denerim."

* * *

Their arrival in Gwaren was greeted with much cheer and celebration. News had been sent ahead that the Blight was over and Anora had arranged a welcome fit for her husband and his brother with cheering crowds, brightly colored banners and welcoming smiles.

Michael strode down the gangplank and gave Anora a warm hug, and kissed her chastely on the cheek. Fergus grinned when he whispered something in his wife's ear and Anora blushed and turned her head with a small smile on her face. She frowned and said something that made him laugh and tuck her hand in his arm to stand beside him.

Families gathered at the docks greeted returning husbands, brothers and sons. Others looked with hopeful eyes for those who would not be returning to home.

There was only one face Fergus was eager to greet as he searched the crowd in vain.

"Anora, where's Leah?" he asked.

Anora sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Fergus. She left the day you set out to Denerim. She didn't say where she was going, but I assumed after…well, I assumed she was going home to Dragon's Peak."

He tried to hide his disappointment. "I have to go find her. I have to know she's safe."

"Not on an empty belly, you won't," said Michael. "Let's get some lunch and we'll go get her."

Anora frowned. "But you only just got back and you promised…."

"Family obligations, buttercup. We Couslands always do our duty."

"Duty," Anora snorted. "You just want another adventure. Very well, I suppose I can wait another few days. Go help your brother."

Michael laughed and bent to whisper in her ear and she blushed again.

"Oh!" she gasped. Anora slapped Michael's cheek, but still didn't look too displeased.

"I'll join you in a bit, big brother. Erlina can get you something to eat. There are some duties I have to attend to in Gwaren before we go."

Erlina showed him to a dining room and brought him some hot stew and bread. Pouring his wine, she stepped back quietly, a small frown on her face.

"Erlina, didn't you have someone returning?" Fergus asked.

"My knight understands my obligations are first to see to the comfort of the members of this household and their guests. We'll have plenty of time later."

"Nonsense, Erlina. I'm perfectly capable of pouring my own wine. You go be with him now."

"My lord is most kind," she said with a little curtsey. Then, she paused. She seemed to want to say something to him and Fergus inclined his head politely. "My lord, perhaps it is not my place to speak, I am but a servant."

"What is it, Erlina?"

"My knight, he is from Highever. He will feel it's his duty to return with you. I beg of you, release him from your service so he might stay here in Gwaren."

Fergus smiled. Michael had spoken of this already on the trip from Denerim. Ser Gavren, one of his father's knights, had become quite taken with the young elven woman. Fergus had already decided to allow Gavren to stay in Gwaren under Michael's service.

"Of course, Erlina, it's already been done."

Her face lit up with joy, and she quickly tried to hide her expression. Fergus grinned.

"You are most kind, Teyrn Cousland, like your brother. Gavren said you would be." She frowned. "My lord, I pray you find Lady Leah and your child safe and well."

"Thanks, Erlina, I hope I—" He sucked in a breath of wine and began to cough, eyes watering. Erlina, concerned, pounded his back trying to help him. Once he got his breath back he grabbed her wrist. "_My what_?"

* * *

A bit later, Fergus, Anora, Michael and Erlina were all gathered in one of the sitting rooms off Michael and Anora's bedroom. Michael wasn't amused until he learned why Fergus had brought them here and now he couldn't stop laughing.

"It's Leah," Fergus said and swallowed. "It's…ah… Erlina said that she's… with child."

Michael's eyes widened as he lay on the settee, listening to him.

"What? Are you saying that you…?" he asked, trying to choke back a giggle.

Fergus looked so distressed Michael burst out laughing helplessly.

"It's not funny, Michael."

"Oh, yes it is! I was inclined to bite off your head when you interrupted me _yet again_ with my wife, but this makes up for it. My responsible, dependable, boring brother got his girlfriend knocked up. Oh, this is too good! I wish Mother and Father were still alive to hear this one."

Fergus moaned. "Bann Sighard is going to kill me. I'll never get to see Leah again unless it's through iron bars."

Michael lay on the settee, holding his sides and laughing, tears coming out of the corners of his eyes. "Probably…" he gasped.

Anora frowned at her husband, but that only made him laugh harder.

"Fergus, maybe we can send them a letter," she said, trying to sound encouraging.

"A letter? This isn't a trade negotiation, buttercup," Michael managed to speak between chuckles. "Somehow I don't think a letter is going to send the right message."

Then he got that look in his blue eyes, the one that always spoke mischief afoot. Fergus frowned. He almost certainly wasn't going to like this idea.

"I've got an army just sitting here in Gwaren. The Blight is done, they have nothing to do. Let's go get your girl, Fergus," said Michael.

Anora's eyes flew open in shock and worry. "You're going to besiege Dragon's Peak? Michael, that's madness!"

"Not besiege them, just a…precaution in case things get messy. Fergus is going to go ask for Leah—politely—and if they refuse, _then_ we'll besiege them until they give her up."

Anora turned to Fergus. "Surely you can talk some sense into him, this is ridiculous!"

"I like it!" Fergus agreed. "When can we set out?"

"On the morrow. My men need their reunions here, but we can head out after giving them a night home."

"You're both insane!" gasped Anora. "What kind of family have I married into?"

"Aw, now, buttercup, you knew what I was like when you married me. Now, come on. Let's go have our reunion so we can give Fergus his." He captured her in his arms and started kissing her pale throat.

"I'm not touching you! You're crazy!" She shoved at him trying to escape the circle of his arms, but he flung her over his shoulder and grinned with a wink at his brother.

"No, Michael, not in front of your brother! Let me down, you brute," Anora yelled, squirming in Michael's grip, but he held her locked in his grip.

"See you tomorrow, brother. Try to get some sleep."

He kicked open the door leading to his room and marched in, carrying Anora like some sort of prize. Fergus heard Anora's continued protests before everything got suddenly quiet. Erlina giggled.

"Are they always like that?" Fergus asked her.

"Oh, yes, Teyrn Michael makes my lady very happy, though she would never admit it."

"I think she makes him very happy, too," Fergus agreed with a smile.

Worrying his lower lip, he thought of Leah. He had returned to Gwaren and found Leah gone. If she'd gone to Dragon's Peak, which wasn't far from Denerim, she had put herself and their child in grave danger. Mingling with the worry was also a fair bit of anger that she would do something like that. She couldn't even wait around for them to return and see everything was safe?

And why keep the child a secret? Fergus knew she loved him, but sometimes he really didn't understand her. After all he had been through, all he had lost and all they had shared, how could she not tell him this?

This was huge. Leah was the mother of his child. Did she think he wouldn't want her or the baby? Maker's breath! She was all he thought about from the moment he left Gwaren until his return.

As he lay in bed that night trying to sleep, he kept seeing her face as it had been when he had left. He knew what she wanted, he just wasn't sure he would ever be able to give it to her.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and rolled over.

While he hadn't said anything to Michael, he was glad his brother was coming along. He wasn't entirely sure Sighard wouldn't just take his stolen honor out on Fergus's hide before giving over his daughter.

The only thing Fergus knew for sure was he wasn't leaving Dragon's Peak without her.


	14. Chapter 14

Heheh Papa Bear Sighard was wonderfully fun to write. I wanted to resolve the matter so that all parties walked away with their honor intact and restore some of Sighard's love/respect for Fergus and believed this would work best.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Leah sat in her mother's atrium, her feet dangling in the pond. Little goldfish, about the size of a knuckle joint swam over to her to nibble at her toes and make her smile wistfully. Her hand rested on her slightly swollen abdomen. At four months along, she was no longer able to disguise the growing life within her.

Enilda was nearby tending her roses. Leah was well aware of her mother's gaze. It had been burning into her all morning, but she was choosing to ignore it.

Oswyn came running up to them.

"Leah! The Teyrn of Gwaren is here with his army!"

"Michael? What…? Oswyn why are they here?"

"They're demanding we turn you over to the Teyrn of Highever!"

She buried her face in her hands. Her first thought was that Fergus was alive, thank the Maker. Then her second was what madness had Michael pulled now and how had he convinced his older brother into this insane adventure? "Oh, Maker, this is quintessential Michael. I wonder how he talked Fergus into this one…."

They went to the battlements where Sighard stood defiantly. Leah looked down and saw Michael in Gwaren colors sitting on his mount. Fergus had dismounted and was arguing up at her father.

_He looks really good_, she thought, pleased to see he'd been taking care of himself. She had worried he wouldn't return at all. Then she'd worried that if he did return, he would fall back into the habit of not taking care of himself as he had those dark days following the discovery of the fate of the inhabitants of Highever.

"Do we really have to stand here and shout at each other?" Fergus asked. "I just want to talk to Leah. That's all."

"I am not now, nor will I ever, turn my daughter over to you, Teyrn Cousland. Go home," Sighard said.

"I'm not leaving without her, Sighard. I would prefer civilized discourse."

"Is that why you have your army here?"

"That's just a precaution. These are dangerous times."

"Dangerous for you, boy. Out of respect for your parents I haven't ordered my archers to fire, but if you try to step foot into this keep…."

"Father!" Leah gasped.

Sighard's voice dropped. "He dishonored you, after promising me he wouldn't let you come to harm. He's lucky I don't pepper him full of arrows and send him out of here on his shield."

"Father, he didn't force me. Let me talk to him."

Even now, as angry as she was, she wanted to see him. She wanted to hear those words he had withheld from her. All he had to do was speak them and she would go with him.

Sighard sighed. "All right, a flag of truce?" he called out. "My daughter would hear what you have to say. But none of your men cross this threshold. Just you and Michael.

"Agreed," Fergus said.

Leah watched as Michael grinned up at her and clapped his brother on the back encouragingly. The drawbridge was lowered and the Cousland brothers crossed warily. Michael's men stood ready, not entirely sure there wouldn't be bloodshed after all. Sighard's men were doing the same, bows down, but held ready for trouble. Sighard and Leah greeted them at the threshold of the keep.

Her heart did a little flip flop, racing in her ears and she tucked her hand into her father's arm to steady herself and keep her father in check. This was no put on sham for Fergus's benefit, Sighard was furious. She hoped Fergus wouldn't further incite him.

Maker's breath, she loved him so much. She was elated he had followed her here and was determined to win her back.

But was it for her, or for the Cousland heir she carried under her heart?

* * *

Fergus swallowed nervously. Looking at her, he wondered how she could seem even more beautiful than she had previously. For there was no comparison. Impending motherhood had done wonderful things to her skin and hair. The look in her green eyes bespoke a maturity that had previously been lacking. It was as if Fergus was seeing her for the first time.

His eyes strayed to the swell of her abdomen and his hands shook with the power of emotions threatening to overcome him. Proof of his love for her lay there and would grow over the coming months. His blood, his family, his kin, his child. Leah carried _his child_. His beautiful, warm, loving, courageous, strong woman carried his hope and his future. He wasn't the last. The chain was unbroken.

"All right, Fergus, I'm here. I'm listening. What do you have to say?" she asked.

Fergus couldn't think straight when she was this close. He blurted out the first words that came to him.

"Leah, I want to do what's right. I want to marry you."

Sighard frowned and Michael slapped his forehead with his palm. "That's my brother, the smooth talker…" he muttered.

There was a brief flash of disappointment on her face before Leah frowned. Her reply was flat and emotionless. "No."

Fergus felt his own ire rising now. "_No one_ keeps me from my family. I won't give you up, Leah!"

"Go home, Fergus. Take Michael's army and retake Highever. I'm done. You've worn out your welcome," she sighed and turned on her heel to walk away.

"You heard my daughter, boy. Go home."

"I'm not leaving," Fergus snapped, trying to keep his anger in check. Then, louder, so she would hear. "I'm not giving up, Leah."

"Go home, Fergus!" she called over her shoulder.

Sighard stood, arms folded, one brow raised.

Fergus and Michael crossed over the drawbridge which was once again lifted. Michael smacked his brother on the arm.

"You idiot! Did you have to just say it like that? Maker's breath, what's wrong with you? You just look her in the eyes and tell her you love her, how hard can it be?"

"Oh, really? If you're such an expert, when did you ever tell Anora you loved her?"

"Anora's…just different, damn you. I show her what I really feel in other ways, but I know that she knows."

"By screwing her silly every night? We all know about that," Fergus retorted angrily. He cringed inwardly at his ugly and unfair words, but the stress of the whole situation had him at breaking point.

Michael's face darkened, but then his features smoothed into something almost like pity.

"My poor brother, you really don't know anything about women, do you?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't think when she gets that close to me! I just know what I want."

"You two are so alike—stubborn and proud. Well, now we get to play siege. Your bluff has been called, Fergus. How long do you think we can do this without it being for real?"

"This was your idea."

Michael put up his hands in protest. "I didn't expect you to botch the opening round of talks that badly. I'm all tapped out at the moment. Give me a day or two. I'll think of something."

* * *

It actually took Michael three days to cook up his next "brilliant" scheme. Fergus was less than enthusiastic about this one though.

"Look, it's perfect. Call him out—to first blood only. Sighard gets to defend his family honor, you can beat an old man easily so you get to have Leah returned to you. And I get to go home to Gwaren and try to make it up to Anora for being away this long. Everyone wins."

"I'm not going to fight Leah's father, Michael. He's an old man."

"An old man who wants your family jewels for his trophy room. You're lucky he hasn't just taken them and sent you back to Highever in ten different little boxes."

"Why does everything have to be a big joke to you, Michael? This is serious."

"And I am being serious, Fergus. This will satisfy everyone's honor and it will prove to Leah how serious you are about her. Women want to know you want them for themselves, not out of duty. Have you ever told her how you feel?"

Fergus frowned. "I can't, Michael. I don't know how else but to show her how I feel. I can't say it."

"You said it often enough to Oriana. Why can't you tell Leah? I know you love her."

There was a long silence Fergus was reluctant to break. Then, "Those were the last words I spoke to…them before I left that night."

"I'm sorry, Fergus, I didn't know." His brother's voice was quiet with sympathy. "Leah isn't Oriana. She's a fighter—you won't lose her just because you tell her you love her. But you might lose her if you don't, brother. Think about it."

That night, Fergus sat watching the battlements, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her, but he never saw her. Doubtless, she was exhibiting more good sense than he was and getting a good night's sleep. Stubborn, beautiful woman. Why did she have to be so damned difficult?

There were other reasons aside from the risk of injuring his lover's father that made Fergus pause with Michael's plan. He wanted to repair the damage he had done to Sighard's trust and affection towards him. Only by doing so would Leah have any chance at happiness with him. Just trouncing the old man on the field of honor wouldn't do that. The idea wasn't totally without merit, but he had to find another way.

Stubborn and prideful, Michael had called both of them. Perhaps it took a few hard knocks to get through to them all.

Toward dawn he had finally come to his own plan. He stepped forward and called up to the guards pacing the battlements.

Over the course of the past few days they had reached a sort of accord. The men on the ground hardly expected hostilities to open up and had become a bit lax in their attention. So, too, did Sighard's troops, expecting no trouble from the men below them.

After all, this was more a domestic dispute than a siege.

"I want to speak to Bann Sighard," said Fergus. "Please go get him and tell him, I offer a challenge."

The guard looked down then shrugged and shouted to someone on the other side of the wall below him to get the bann.

After a bit, Sighard glared down at him.

"I have to hand it to you, boy, you're persistent. What is it now?"

"I offer you a challenge."

"This ought to be good," Sighard sighed. "What is it?"

"This siege can go on for a bit. You aren't going to bend and neither am I."

"We have food enough for the next four months of winter. Can you say the same, boy?"

Fergus was aware his brother had come up to stand beside him, scratching his head and yawning, having just awoke.

"Going with my plan, eh, Fergus?" Michael nodded.

"Not quite," Fergus replied. Then, to Sighard. "Exactly. I don't want this to go on anymore than you do. I propose a challenge. You. Me. In the courtyard. Fisticuffs."

Sighard frowned. "Boy, surely your father told you about me?"

"My father said you hit like a mule kicks. All the same, I won't kill Leah's father. And I want this business done."

"Well, my daughter isn't getting any _less pregnant_, that's for certain. I win, you'll abide by Leah's choice."

"Agreed. If I win, you hand your daughter over to me."

"Agreed."

"You're brave, big brother, I'll give you that," Michael said to him. "Sighard used to be one of the most fearsome fisticuffs fighters in his days, and he's not that old yet."

"I know what I'm doing," Fergus replied grimly, as the portcullis slowly opened to let them into the courtyard.

* * *

"Father, you can't do this!"

"Sighard, you aren't a young man anymore."

Leah's father ignored the protests of his daughter and wife.

"We have to do something to end this. He's not going away, Leah. I can do this. Either I win and he leaves, or he wins and he still leaves and you'll have a husband. And regardless of the outcome, honor is restored for both parties. For me this is a win only situation."

"I won't marry him just because of a stupid challenge!" Leah snapped. "Nor will I marry him just because I'm carrying his child!"

"Leah, when your father and I married, we did so out of duty. The Maker blessed us with you and your brother and we grew to love one another. You already have half that—you love him. Isn't that enough to start with?" Enilda asked. "Surely, Fergus must have feelings for you as deep as yours for him. Maybe he just doesn't know how to tell you. Fergus wouldn't be going through all this just because he wants his child."

"Wouldn't he? You weren't there, Mother. You didn't see what losing Oren did to him. And you heard him before. '_No one_ keeps me from my family.' He's never going to let me go as long as I have this baby."

Maker's breath, she didn't want him to either, but she didn't want him like this.

"You don't think he'll stand by his word?" Sighard asked. He considered that for a moment. "Well, he _did_ promise you wouldn't come to any harm and look at you."

"He didn't harm me, Father. He didn't force me!"

"Well, we'll see," Sighard said.

He strode out to the courtyard. There stood Fergus with his brother, Michael.

"He looks just like Bryce did at that age," Sighard said. Then, he walked over to Fergus and stood before him. "Don't think I'll go easy on you for Bryce's sake, boy. I'm going to give it my all."

Fergus looked to her and Leah frowned in the mid-morning sunlight. "I'm counting on it, Sighard."


	15. Chapter 15

This chapter brings my story to a close. Thank you to Xandurpein for his assistance in some of the fighting sequence. Thanks to Cadsuane for her editing skills. Thanks to Bioware for their characters and world, I own none of this stuff. Thanks to all those who took the time to read my story and special thanks to those who wrote me their reviews. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Leah watched miserably as her father and her lover squared off in the courtyard. Surely they wouldn't continue this insanity. Her eyes met Michael's blue ones and he shrugged at her. He winked at her in what was doubtlessly his attempt to be encouraging, but she didn't feel encouraged. She was terrified that someone was going to be hurt.

"King's rules?" Sighard suggested. Fergus nodded. "A duel of honor, till one party yields. The first to give loses." Again Fergus nodded. "I don't intend to lose, boy. Prepare for the thrashing of your life."

"Bring it on, old man."

Sighard had removed his tunic, and bare-chested, moved back. Shifting his weight on the balls of his feet smoothly, he threw a few limbering punches at his shadow. Fergus pulled off his tunic and stretched his limbs. Leah licked her lips at the sight of her lover's bare torso. Then, catching herself staring, she blinked and looked away, cursing her traitorous body.

For tense moments the two men circled each other, tentative jabs thrown to test the other's mettle. Then they began to move with earnestness. Sighard's blow was the first to connect, a strong punch to the right upper arm. Sighard was an experienced fighter and he knew the best way to slow a strong, but inexperienced, opponent was to numb his arm muscles.

Fergus winced and Leah closed her eyes to the sight of flesh meeting flesh.

She saw her father's men placing bets on which one would yield first and saw Michael's men doing the same. The consensus seemed to be drawn along lines of age rather than oath, with the older soldiers betting on Sighard, the younger on Fergus.

_Men_! she thought. _They're all insane_!

Fergus got in a good punch to the face and her father staggered. He grinned, blood running from a split eyebrow.

"That's more like it, boy. I was expecting you to fold, but it looks like you're serious," Sighard's voice actually held grudging admiration.

The next round of blows was an even trade and neither man looked close to yielding. For several minutes there were the sounds of grunting, fists pounding and men cheering. Leah watched tensely—she loved both men and they seemed bent on beating each other to death.

Finally, spent and panting, both men stood, hands on knees, catching their breath. Sighard looked at Fergus, as if assessing the damage his hands had wrought on the younger man.

"Give it up, boy. I won't yield."

"I know," Fergus said. "But I won't either. Not until I give you enough."

Sighard frowned and renewed his assault, angrily. He rained several blows on Fergus, who could only hold up his arms in defense, until a blow knocked him down.

"Yield or get up, boy! I won't beat on a fallen man!"

"Still not enough," Fergus said through bloodied lips and stood.

Sighard clenched his fists and landed three blows in quick succession, followed a roundhouse blow that knocked Fergus back into a water trough.

"Enough. Yield, you stubborn fool, and let's be done with this."

"You haven't had enough."

"I haven't had enough? Boy, _I _am thrashing _you_!" Sighard snarled. "Stay down and I'll call this done."

Fergus slowly pushed up with his hands, and staggered to his feet.

"By the Maker, boy! What are you trying to prove? That you can take a hit? You _are _your father's son."

"Not…leaving…without her…" he managed to gasp, swaying with glazed eyes.

Sighard drew back his fist and Leah could stand no more. She ran forward, grabbing her father's arm.

"Stop it! Fergus, yield! Please yield!"

"No, not till this is done."

Sighard sighed and looked at his daughter. "It's done, Fergus. I yield."

"Are you certain you've had enough?" Fergus asked. "I would have this matter resolved between us. I want to be on good terms with my in-laws."

Sighard grinned. "Aye, boy, what's done is done. If you cause my daughter no further grief, I will be content."

Fergus grinned and nodded his head.

Leah shook her head. "So…I'm some prize to be handed out to the winner?"

"It's not like that, Leah," sighed Sighard. "I gave my word. Would you sully the honor I just regained by reneging on it?"

Leah shook her head. "No, Father. But I—"

"No buts. Fergus has proven he'll stand by his word. He's a good man and you're lucky to have him. Oswyn, fetch the revered mother."

"I can't marry him like that with his face all bruised and bloodied. At least let him get cleaned up. And you need a bath and tending, too. You can't very well give me away like that, all bruised up and smelling like a horse!"

"All right, Oswyn, tell her to be in the main hall in three hours," Sighard acquiesced.

Leah turned and glared at Fergus. "Let's get you cleaned up." She walked away without looking to see if he followed. "And wipe that smug grin off your face, Mother," she snapped.

* * *

Leah's hands were as soothing as the herbal treatment she applied to his cuts and bruises.

"You fool," she whispered, but not without affection. "What were you trying to prove? This doesn't solve anything."

"Well, your father doesn't want to kill me anymore."

"And you'll be tied to me and the baby," she said.

He frowned. "Leah is that what you think?" he said, softly. "We've crossed from one end of this country to another, fought side by side, cared for each other, made this miraculous life amidst all this fighting and death, and you think I do this for duty?"

"I…I don't know, Fergus. I just…."

His hand came up to hold hers. "You need to hear it, don't you?"

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

"Leah, I've killed for you. I would lay down my life, gladly, for you. I would fight for you, for our children. I would try with every last day of my life to ensure that those beautiful green eyes shed only happy tears. If that isn't telling you, every day with every breath I take, that there's _nothing_ I wouldn't do for you, I don't know how else to say it."

She sniffed and kissed him tenderly.

"Fergus, I've never heard 'I love you' put quite so lovingly before."

* * *

The wedding was lavish for having been so abruptly arranged. The bride was radiant in a deep green and gold trimmed gown. The groom was resplendent in dark blue with a starched, white shirt. Her parents stood overlooking the proceedings and smiling, happily. The groom's brother stood as best man, beaming like he had arranged the entire proceedings. The main hall was decked in flowers, and the smell of the wedding feast still cooking wafted through the hall, making all the participants' mouths water.

Later, there was feasting and dancing and games long into the night.

Feeling much better than he had in months, Fergus sat and watched the family around him. Sighard stood talking to some of his men and laughing over something someone said. He was glad he'd managed to mend some of the damage he'd done to their friendship. Perhaps things were actually better, as Sighard seemed to have a new respect for him now. Enilda, always kind and he couldn't ask for a nicer mother-in-law, was talking to Leah on her other side. He imagined she would be spoiling the little one to come. He was also glad the Grey Warden had found Oswyn and freed him. Leah had been so worried about her brother and Fergus had been able to offer little more than sympathy.

They were wonderful people, warm and loving. They would never replace what he'd lost—no one could—but it was a new start. And here, in Dragon's Peak surrounded by them, it felt a little something like home.

Then his eyes fell on Michael. To anyone else, he seemed friendly and animated, keeping up lively chatter, but to Fergus, who knew his brother well, he could tell there was something missing in him. He worried for Michael. Anora was…not the nicest person. She was stubborn, opinionated and completely in control at all times. He wondered what the wild and chaotic Michael would do married to someone like that. Where was the attraction? Anora was certainly beautiful, but Michael could have his pick of any woman he wanted.

Then he noticed something that had been tugging at the edges of his mind. Two of the serving wenches had been trying all night to get his attention, but Michael seemed oblivious to them, even as one of them went so far as to practically push her bosom in his face.

_Just married her for her army, my ass, baby brother…._

Maybe the path to love wasn't an easy one for anyone. He wondered if Michael would ever understand his feelings for his wife. Then Fergus looked over at Leah. People come and go in your life—parents, spouses, even children. But life went on and perhaps that was the best part of it. It wasn't easy, but Leah was worth everything he'd done to reach this moment with her.

He couldn't wait to get her upstairs, but had to content himself with celebrating with all the well wishers for now.

When the new couple departed for their wedding night, it was to cheers and good natured teasing from the participants.

And still later, in the dark of the night, their bodies glowing with the sheen of perspiration and the hazy blush of afterglow, they lay entwined in the bed. Fergus held Leah close to him and smiled down at her beautiful, peaceful, sleeping face.

There was still much to do in the days ahead, but for tonight, he was content beside the woman he loved.

His hand moved to her belly, touching the little swell that was their baby and he felt an indescribable tenderness towards the woman in his arms. Having done so many things all wrong, they had gotten this one precious thing right.

"Goodnight, little Cousland," he whispered.

The End


End file.
